


Swift Hooves, Midnight Feathers, Golden Fur

by Salt00



Series: If we're all children of the Goddess, are you guys my siblings? [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Animal Instincts, Animal Traits, Animal Transformation, Body Horror, Canon? I dont know her, Codependency, Cuddling & Snuggling, Everyone lives, Fluff, Found Family, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Motherly Rhea (more terrifying than it sounds), Nightmares, Non-Consensual Touching, Platonic Relationships, Possessive Behavior, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Recovery, Scheming, Separation Anxiety, Sir that's my emotional support Dimitri, Suicidal Thoughts Mentioned, Touch-Starved, spoilers for all routes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2020-12-29 08:30:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 158,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21136922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salt00/pseuds/Salt00
Summary: Hooves and antlers, wings and talons, or a lion's mane and tail. They've come back changed, and they clutch each other closer for the sake of it.There are so many adjustments to be made in daily life, and they only have a year to prepare for the Empire's march on Garrag Mach. Edelgard knows the task is daunting, but with Dimitri and Claude by her side, she'll be ready.Dimitri finally knows the perpetrators of the Tragedy of Duscur. His ghosts claw at him to take action, but his protective instincts tell him that Claude and El are more important. For them, he'll wait.The night is too cold alone, so it's good that Claude has a big bed. For Edelgard and Dimitri, he'll share.(Second part of Broken Antlers, Clipped Wings, Shattered Fangs)





	1. Nat 20 Bluff Check

**Author's Note:**

> Continuation of Broken Antlers, Clipped Wings, Shattered Fangs. More fluffy and comfort oriented than the previous part of the series (tho plot still oozed it's way in, woops). This won’t make much sense if you haven’t read the previous, but I’ll leave a tl;dr for the people who didn’t want to read the angstyness:
> 
> Edelgard, Claude, and Dimitri didn’t get saved from bandits by Byleth at the start of the game, and instead were captured and sold to a rogue member of Those Who Slither in the Dark. Their captor experimented on them, strengthening their crests and giving them animalistic traits. Edelgard has black wings, feathers along her arms, bird ears, and bird legs. Claude is a deer-taur, his lower half is 100% deer and is quadruped (but still has his human torso and hands). He has white spots that also spread up his back and onto his face (like freckles), deer ears, and antlers. Dimitri has a lion’s tail, a mane, sharp teeth, cat ears, claws, and cat-like legs. During their captivity they relied on each other and grew very close. After about a week and a half, Byleth (who they've never met) busts in and saves them.

**Friday, 2nd of Harpstring Moon**

Bathing was a _ blessing _ and nothing would convince Edelgard otherwise. To finally feel clean, to be rid of the filth that only served to remind her of the time in that cell…

She sunk her face a little deeper into the steaming water, willing those thoughts to be washed away. She didn’t want to think about her time locked up. The heat was blissful, finally warming away the cold that had stubbornly clung to her even after their rescue. The heat soaked into the joints of her wings. She hadn’t realized how much the new muscles absently ached until she had time to unwind.

Their prison had been freezing. Literally. That dastard rogue member of Those who Slither had burrowed his research base into the peak of one of Faerghus’ most northern mountains. It was little wonder they hadn’t been found for so long. It was hard to get more isolated than that.

Their savior had only found the place by coincidence. Despite the heat of the water, she still shivered at the thought of what would have happened if Byleth hadn’t, on what she claimed was a _ whim, _ decided to climb a mountain. She didn’t want to imagine what her fate would have been if Byleth hadn’t just so happened to stumble onto the hidden entrance.

Byleth claimed her mercenary band had been in northern Faerghus for work, and that a nearby village had rumors of strange things happening atop the mountain. Struck by a rare bout of curiosity she had split from her band and decided to check it out on her own. _ On a whim. _

Byleth… the mercenary was an enigma. She was stone faced at her most expressive and only spoke as few words as she could manage. The epitome of cold-hearted mercenary, killing without so much a twitch in her face. If the fact that she had single handedly cleared out their captor’s lair wasn’t enough proof of her competence, they had seen her deadly skills in action when they stumbled into a small bandit camp on their way back to the monastery.

Yet at the same time, she was oddly considerate. Her patience hadn’t waned in the slightest at Edelgard and Claude’s slow pace, offering a hand whenever one of them stumbled. She was incredibly observant, knowing their limits better than they did. She had taken notice when one of Edelgard’s feet (talons?) had been cut along a sharp rock, despite the measures Edelgard took to hide her pain. 

She had called out Dimitri when he bit his tongue again, handing him a thick branch she had picked up along the trail. She had, in her usual deadpan manner, told him to gnaw on it instead of his tongue. Edelgard still wasn’t sure how much of that had been a joke and how much had been serious. Dimitri _ did _ take to chewing on the wood, muttering later how it had actually helped.

And when Claude had smacked his antlers on an unyielding branch, Byleth had stopped their trek to check his head. Claude had tried to wave it off despite the clear pain he had been in. But Byleth hadn’t listened, taking out a bandana and dabbing it with cool water from her canteen. She had delicately wrapped it around his forehead, claiming it would ‘help his headache’. A few hours later when they stopped for camp, Claude returned the bandana and admitted it had reduced the pounding in his skull.

Then there was her odd indifference to their… _ situation. _ It was as though Byleth thought they were normal. She didn’t treat them any differently than she did anyone else, as far as Edelgard could tell. Yet she didn’t ignore their oddities. She just… accepted them and moved on.

The woman was strange. That wasn’t even including her ‘interesting’ choice of clothing.

_ Edelgard refused to indulge Claude’s teasing. She _ hadn’t _ been staring at the woman’s cleavage. She had just been so shocked at her arrival. That was all. _

_ … but she did have very nice— _

Byleth had offered her services to escort them home without a second thought. Edelgard would have assumed it was business savviness, were it not for the fact that Byleth had pressed that payment would not be necessary. She later revised that stance when they subtly implied their wealth. But the underlying intent was still there— Byleth had no idea she had saved three of the most prominent people in Fódlan’s budding generation. She had assumed they would have nothing to pay with, but offered a hand anyways.

Edelgard peeked through the steam to where Byleth sat against the door of the bathhouse, fully clothed and sword in lap. Edelgard hated how relieved it made her feel that the woman was still around. She was oddly protective of them, and Edelgard couldn’t help but be grateful for it. Even now that they had made it to the monastery, she had refused to leave them.

_ “You say this place is safe, but you have yet to relax,” _ was all she had said about it.

It was true. Edelgard couldn’t relax. She wanted to blame it on the church making her nervous, or her undecided fate within the empire, or her trepidation to reactions to her physical changes. Those things _ did _ worry her, but in truth they weren’t the problem. She was seeing dark masks in the shadows, hearing shrill cackles carried along the wind. She was just _ waiting _ to be attacked, just waiting for that man to take one of them away again.

She could recognize the signs as similar to her last stint being a labrat. Yet despite the fact she _ knew _ it was in her head, she couldn’t help the spiraling panic that threatened to overwhelm her when no one was around.

She peered to her side, drinking in the view of Dimitri and Claude, hating the way it calmed her racing heart.

It was stupid. Childish. Yet she couldn’t find a way around it.

Dimitri had his eyes closed as he rested with half his face in the hot water. His whiskers poked out of the water, droplets hanging off of them. His mane was floating around his neck, giving him an almost flower-like appearance. She would have assumed he was asleep if it wasn’t for the way his ears twitched from side to side, like he was listening for something.

Claude was lounging against the side of the pool, his arms spread out behind him against the rim. It looked casual, if not for the fact she knew Claude was using the rim to keep himself from stumbling face first into the water. He had gotten quite good at walking through natural terrains on their trek back to the monastery. However, he wasn’t so good at walking on the slick stone floors that the church loved. He couldn’t get any traction. His large deer ears drooped, relaxed, occasionally twitching in her or Dimitri’s direction. His eyes were half lidded, lazily keeping an eye out. 

Her clinginess was mutual at least. She wasn’t the only one throwing glances around and relaxing at the sight. The fact that they were even bathing in the same area was another sign of their new closeness. When Manuela had stealthily escorted them to the bathhouse, the professor had assumed they would split into their respective gendered baths. Edelgard had tried to conceal the icy panic that had gripped her so suddenly at the thought of separation. As one and instinctively, Claude and Dimtiri had stepped towards her, brushing their shoulders with hers. They didn't need words to communicate that they would share.

It was going to be a problem. They couldn’t go the rest of their lives conjoined at the hip.

Three swift knocks on the bathhouse door signaled their time over. She couldn’t help the fond smile she hid under the water for Claude’s groan of ‘just five more minutes’.

She wrapped her wings around her body and rose from the warmth. She wasn’t sure if she was miffed or not at how big they were compared to the rest of her. Even when folded the elbow joint still rose over a foot above her head.

“Love the new feather gown, Edel!” Claude cheered with a laugh.

She snorted, rolling her eyes. To think she was so comfortable around him and Dimitri while wearing nothing but a glorified feather towel…

Claude took a few tries to heave himself out of the bath, failing between slipping with his hooves and his still poor balance. In the end, Dimitri just lifted him out of the pool like Claude was one of the little cats living on the monastery grounds. Claude pouted in response.

As Dimitri began to climb out of the pool she turned away, accepting a real towel from Byleth and wrapping it around her body. She extended her wings a bit and shook them, water cascading off them. Judging by the twin yelps, she must have gotten the boys.

Her wings were… itchy. Despite being washed, they felt disheveled. 

It was easy to hear Claude bound up to her side, his hooves clacking loudly against the tile. Byleth tossed a towel to Dimitri and passed Claude one as well. He held it out in front of him frowning. He caught her eye and gave a mischievous smirk.

“So Byleth, how am I supposed to wear this? Like this?” He wrapped the towel around his waist like Dimitri had. “Or like this?” He moved the towel to his hind legs and wrapped it around the waist of his deer half.

Byleth blinked. “You do not need to wear it at all.”

Edelgard snorted at Claude’s antics, turning to Dimitri. Her eyes widened and she choked on her surprise, unable to suppress a bark of laughter. Dimitri only glared at her in reply. His mane was soaked and the fur clung to his neck and chest, giving him a ‘wet kitten’ look. His ears pressed flat on the top of his head only furthered the image.

The clothes that had been left for them were just the standard monastery loungewear. Issues were immediately apparent.

Her shorts went on easily, though felt uncomfortable around the feathers coming from her thighs. Her shirt was… more complicated. Her wings twitched in beat with her irritation.

She looked up and felt a small surge of validation at Claude’s similar predicament. He ignored the shorts (for obvious reasons) and was grimacing at the shirt. The antlers that curled over a foot above his head were too big to even consider the possibility of slipping on a shirt.

Dimitri was the only one that managed to wear the clothes properly, though she noted that he had sliced part of the collar of the shirt with his claws when putting it on. The shorts also fit a bit awkwardly on his altered legs.

“I can cut the back…?” Byleth’s monotone voice suggested, nodding to the sword on her lap.

“I guess I’ll take you up on that,” Claude said as he passed over his shirt. “Vandalizing church property is at least something I can get behind.” Dimitri swatted Claude (more like gently patted, but the reprimand was still there).

Edelgard couldn’t say she was too happy to have an open-backed shirt, or a ‘reverse vest’ as Claude called it, but she didn’t have much of a choice.

They were led back to the infirmary quickly and quietly. It was past curfew so there were no students to worry about, but the staff still made the effort. Back in the infirmary they shared a bed without even pretending to consider the alternative. Long gone was the stubborn pride she had once held when it came to snuggling up close to the two boys. Before it had been a necessity with the very real danger of freezing to death. But now it was a habit— a comfort.

In the morning, the monastery would learn of their return. It was a sobering thought.

Edelgard found herself woken at one point by a small whimper. She was glad to be woken, as she herself was not having a pleasant dream. Claude peeled an eye open at the same time she did, and together they woke Dimitri. For the rest of the night they slipped in and out of sleep, waking each other when nightmares descended.

  
  


* * *

**Saturday, 3rd of Harpstring Moon**

The sight of dawn’s first light peeking in through the windows was, in Dimitri’s opinion, the second most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

(The most beautiful was the visage of Byleth, bloody sword in one hand and the key to their freedom in her other, her blue hair haloed by the light of freedom. Not that he would admit this. Claude was already smug enough as it was.)

He hadn’t slept much during the night, catching snatches of it between flashes of his own nightmares or mutters from Claude or whimpers from El. Nonetheless he felt surprisingly well rested.

The light from the sun relaxed the small fear of his that they were still trapped. That he had only dreamed their escape. Which didn’t make any sense, considering he hadn’t dreamed once within the cell. That didn’t stop him from occasionally wrenching his eyes open to scan the darkness throughout the night. Not that it was very dark, for him at least. It seemed all three of them had improvements to their night vision.

There was something soothing about having El and Claude by his side. Their previous arrangement was shifted to factor in Claude’s new legs as well as the welcome addition of an actual bed to lay on. Claude laid on the right side of the bed, his equine half curled up and pressed into Dimitri’s side. His upper half was draped over Dimitri’s torso, his face nestled into the middle of Dimitri’s chest. El didn’t even bother laying on the bed, her entire body lay pressed into his torso alongside Claude. El curled around Claude, her head resting in the crook of his antlers with her nose buried in his curls, her legs tucked under below his chest.

One of Claude’s arms wrapped around Dimitri’s neck, the other coming to clutch the small of El’s back. Dimitri’s arm had to clutch across his chest so El wouldn’t roll off his chest, his other arm doing the same to embrace Claude as well. For symmetry (it wasn’t for symmetry). 

To tie it all together, El’s wings wrapped around them, cocooning them in a blanket of black feathers. 

“Looks like we aren’t being kicked out of the church,” Claude mumbled from under the feathers, startling Dimitri back to the present. “They’ve been nothing but accommodating so far.”

He felt El nod into his chest. “So it seems. Looks like we’ll be going with your plan after all.” She sighed. “I’m not sure we’ll be able to maintain respect though. For now they’ll tolerate us, but what about when their guilt of not finding us wears away?”

Claude snickered. “Actually, I’ve got a little scheme...”

Claude laid out his plan before them. It was… well, if it actually worked it would be perfect. Though deception was not something he liked to endorse, he knew there wasn’t much of a choice in their current situation.

And… how much of it was even deception? Stretching the truth, yes, but— 

Damn, Claude was rubbing off on him.

“Your plan requires our crests to be examined,” El murmured. “You know why I can’t do that. And if it’s only me that refuses, that will look suspicious.”

“Oh? And why not?” Though he couldn’t see Claude’s smirk, he could hear it. “In fact, why not tell the truth about how you got the Crest of Flame?”

El gasped. “You can’t be serious!”

Dimitri hummed. “Actually, I think Claude has a point.”

“No. No, no. If we reveal that, it will lead to them asking why. And the why involves the planned attack on the church. This will only kick start the war early!”

“We don’t reveal _ everything _ Edel, calm down. All we do is insinuate that you got the Crest of Flames from our recent stint being captured. No one has to know the truth of who forced it on you. A lone cultist— one who is dead— won’t ring war bells.”

“Besides, the second half of Claude’s plan should reduce suspicion as well,” Dimitri tacked on.

El sighed, falling silent as she considered it. “Fine. While I resent the fact that we’ll be using our _ crests _ to raise our credibility…” It wasn’t like she hadn’t already planned to use her crest for the very same reason in the Empire.

“It’ll give us a lot more political power though. We can use that to de-emphasize the importance of Crests.”

El sighed again, grumbling into Claude’s hair. “I can’t see any other path… This had better not backfire on us.”

  
  


* * *

Claude tensed as he heard Byleth’s warning knock against the infirmary door. She had informed them the previous night that she would keep guard outside the door. That knock was her code for an unknown visitor. The door opened. He tightened his grip on Dimitri. The downside to Edel’s _ heavenly _ feather blanket was that it made visibility difficult.

“Lady Rhea!” Dimitri gasped.

The black wings covering them retracted. Lady Rhea smiled one of her overly sweet benevolent smiles. She strode into the room, Byleth following her in. The mercenary’s eyes tracked Rhea, not letting down her guard.

“Good morning,” she began, “I am overjoyed that the Goddess returned the three of you to us.” Her smile was fixed. Artificial. She took the nearby stool and sat beside their bed. “I have waited until now to discuss these matters for the sake of your recovery, but I am afraid they must be decided sooner rather than later. Before we begin, I want the three of you to know you will always be welcome within the Church’s walls, no matter what your respective countries decide.”

Maybe if Claude hadn’t been who he was, he would have only seen her altruism. Instead, all he could think of was the fact that, even if they were disowned, they were still important political pieces. Important political pieces that the church would want.

She turned her head to Byleth, who stood with arms crossed by the door. “I must commend you as well, ah… Byleth, was it? Truely, it was the will of the Goddess herself that brought you to our doorstep.” Claude frowned at her wording. Her gaze was too intense, an odd tilt to her words. “You have been devoted in ensuring the safety of our students, even now. I would like to offer you a position at the monastery. We are short a teacher, and I would like you to fill that position.”

Claude exchanged a surprised look with Edelgard and Dimitri. _ What? _

Byleth blinked. “I will ask my father what he thinks of your offer when he arrives. I sent him a letter explaining where I am, so he should arrive in a few days.”

There were so many layers to unpack. Apparently Byleth answered to her mysterious father, enough to _ not _ immediately accept a highly prestigious position from the Archbishop herself. Then there was the angle that the Archbishop wanted a previously unknown mercenary to be a _ teacher _ of all things? Something was at play.

The way Lady Rhea didn’t blink as she stared at Byleth really was not helping things. “I admit, I am surprised. Most would leap at the position. It will pay far more than mercenary work, I assure you.”

Byleth only nodded. “My answer remains the same.”

“...Very well. Your father must be a very important man,” she said. The way she phrased her words made Claude feel like she knew something, like she was telling an inside joke.

Claude felt his already high opinion of Byleth skyrocket. People didn’t defy the archbishop. It just wasn’t done. Even when the request was phrased as a request and not an order, it was dangerous to refuse the Church. 

Rhea turned her attention back to them. “Now, there is the complications of your situation…” She trailed off, thoughtful look on her face.

It was now or never.

“Lady Rhea, if I may be so bold…” Claude began, “I think what happened to us was for a reason. During our capture, I was sent visions.” He nodded to Dimitri and Edelgard who returned his nod. “We all were. We believe they were sent from the Goddess herself.”

Lady Rhea had gone very still. Her face was inscrutable. “Oh? Tell me more.”

Edelgard took over for him. “We have seen a darkness upon the rise, Lady Rhea. Threats of an ancient enemy returning.” Claude was glad Edelgard had such a good poker face as she bullshitted the Archbishop herself. There was a good reason he and Edelgard were doing the talking and not Dimitri. “The visions were not clear beyond that, unfortunately.”

“... Is this so?” Lady Rhea murmured, not directed towards them. Her expression remained blank, but Claude caught her eyes twitch to where Byleth sat for a moment. _ That’s interesting... _

“Indeed. Furthermore, we believe our Crests have been bolstered by this divine interference. To prepare us for what is to come. I would ask that Hanneman examine our Crests for proof.”

Was it just him, or had Rhea’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly?

Edelgard gestured towards her wings. “It cannot be coincidence the animalistic traits we have gained. Black Eagles are the symbol of House Hresvelg, but before that they were symbols of Saint Seiros. I’m certain you know this though.” 

“Deer are considered a sacred creature in the Alliance,” Claude added. “Deer are heavily associated with the Riegan House, but something that isn’t common knowledge is that this only happened _ after _ the introduction of crests. An odd correlation. Clearly deer are related to the crest of Riegan itself.” He nodded to Dimitri. “It’s similar with the royal lions. Modern day Blaiddyd is represented with a Gryphon, but that’s only been in the past 500 years. Before then it was just a straight lion. It’s interesting too, most Crests have an animal associated with them. Indech is correlated to turtles, Daphnel with horses, Cethlenne with fish… But I’m sure you’re aware of that.”

Rhea mulled over their words. Her gaze felt a little too piercing. Calculating. Like she was trying to dissect him and his words. “...I suppose it might be possible… Hmm, yes, I can see how that would be true...” she murmured quietly to herself. Claude didn’t think she realized their enhanced hearing meant they could hear her clearly. He suppressed a shiver. She quieted, her blank mask returning. “Tell me more of these visions.”

“Haunting specters of the dead, both the past and future,” Dimitri said, surprising Claude. “Flashes of battle, too fast and unclear to understand beyond the basics.”

Claude nodded. “The Goddess— at least I’m pretty sure it was the Goddess— sent us whispers that she would not abandon her children, especially not after all these years of devotion.”

Rhea gave a small intake of breath. “What was the exact wording?” Her eyes bore into his.

Claude resisted the urge to fidget. “Well, there were a lot of whispers, most weren’t clear.” His thoughts went back to his mock prayer. “But I definitely remember hearing something along the lines of being unwilling to grieve for any more children,” he bullshitted.

Rhea was going to _ kill _ them if she realized he was lying. Yet her eyes were not focused on him. She hummed, seeming lost in thought. Her eyes drifted back to Byleth. “I see.” Then her eyes snapped back to them, her smile growing wide. It was like a physical blow the way her lips stretched across her face. He had never seen her so much as grin, but this smile was unconstrained. “Yes, yes. This lines up with many of the signs I have been shown. It seems the Goddess has plans.”

Her grin only grew wider, showing white teeth that looked far too predatory despite how normal they were. “It seems you three will have important parts to play. Yes… this is very good news.” She clasped her hands and stood. “There is much that needs to be done I see. I will have Hanneman test your Crests, but I know already they are stronger. Yes… I know you three shall not disappoint the Goddess.”

Then she left.

Silence.

“... Holy shit. That worked?” Claude whispered. “Phase one accomplished, above and beyond.” At this point, they might not even need to do anything to fulfill the second half of his plan. Phase one: convince Rhea their alterations were of divine origin. Phase two: convince their respective nations that their ‘divinity’ meant they were still fit to lead.

“That was the archbishop, then?” Byleth’s low murmur reminded him they weren’t alone.

Dimitri nodded.

Byleth narrowed her eyes, frowning. “... I don’t trust her.”

“Wise,” Edelgard said. “We may need her for the time being, to secure our safety, but do not make the mistake of trusting her.”

Byleth nodded. “She gives me strange looks. I do not like it.”

  
  


* * *

Hilda shuffled into Seteth’s office feeling half-dead. It was three _ hours _ before classes were supposed to start, and Hilda really, _ really _ wanted to be in bed. Plus Rhea apparently had some super important, _ mandatory _ announcement planned for later in the morning.

Cyril had woken her, handing her a note from Seteth. If it hadn’t been for the fact that Cyril wouldn’t leave until she opened it, she would have flung it on her desk and gone back to bed. But _ noooo, _ she opened it and received a curt summon from Seteth. He underlined not to be late. Three times. If she was late, he promised she would be on weeding duty for the rest of the school year.

So she had dragged herself out of bed. She didn’t know why it had to be so early. She had the misfortune of seeing the man fairly often in the past week, what with Claude’s disappearance. She was going to _ kill _ Claude when he got back. He owed her _ big time. _ She could have just let Lorenz take over as temporary house leader, but nooooo, she had to open her big mouth and volunteer. _ Ugh. _

But she knew A) Lorenz would crash and burn as house lead, B) she really did not want Lorenz Hellman McSmugman as _ her _ house lead, and C) Claude would be pissed to see how much of a mess Lorenz would have made. Because Lorenz _ would _ have made the mother of all messes. He assumed commoners would be unable to contribute and he thought women shouldn’t need to help either (which in _ literally any other scenario _ would have been her favorite thing about Lorenz). Considering those two criteria took out everyone on the Golden Deer other than Claude and Lorenz himself...

It would be less work for her to just do it herself. _ Ugh. _ The mess Lorenz would have made was not something she wanted to even think about.

Unlike Edelgard and Dimitri, Claude didn’t have a retainer to step up and take their place. As much as she hated to admit it (because _ it _ sounded like a lot of work) she was the closest thing Claude had to a retainer. She liked Claude: they were very similar when it came down to what counted. Though she would never say it aloud, she schemed just as much as Claude did. Usually just to get out of work, but still. She hadn’t known him for long— a few political meetings over the past year and the few days before school began— but she liked Claude. Usually. When he wasn’t being annoying.

Claude _ so _ owed her when he got back.

_ When. Not if. No matter what everyone says, it’s only been a week and a half. Considering the possibility was just a waste of time. Claude was too tricky to die. _

_ Goddess he _ better _ still be alive. _

When it became clear the Knights of Seiros had no leads to find the three missing heirs, temporary house leaders had been chosen. Seteth had been helping them with their new roles, calling the three of them into his office more than a few times.

Well, her and Dedue. Hubert had… not taken the news of Edelgard’s disappearance gracefully. At all. Like, _ romance novel _ levels of bad, _ ‘life is not worth living without Lady Edelgard’ _ levels of bad.

Dedue wasn’t much better in that specific regard, but at least Dedue hadn’t escaped from the monastery to go looking for his missing Lord.

Hubert had been found a few days later by the Knights of Seiros, passed out from an assortment of injuries. Hubert had, evidently, thought it a logical idea to storm some weird kinky dungeon cult by himself, certain that they had Edelgard. They hadn’t.

Whatever Hubert had found only brought hope lower. Hubert was convinced Edelgard was dead. Beyond hope, without a doubt, _ dead. _ He was confined to his room for bedrest, though Manuela took care to keep a close eye on him. He’d tried to leave multiple times, but considering he had a broken leg, he never made it far. The only bright side was that, despite the depression that oozed from Hubert, he didn’t look like he was about to take his own life.

He wouldn’t tell anyone what brought him his dark conclusion, but it was obvious he learned something while storming that dungeon. Hilda didn’t buy it. The three heirs hadn’t been in the dungeon, nor was there any evidence they had ever been. As far as she could eavesdrop from the Knights, the missing heirs hadn’t even passed through that direction.

Still, it was very concerning. Even worse, the Empire had declared a state of mourning. It grated at her, but the Empire had already declared Edelgard officially dead. They gave up rather quickly, she couldn’t help but think. It was suspicious. Goddess, she wasn’t even sure if the Alliance had _ heard _ about Claude’s missing status yet.

With Hubert stuck on bedrest (and uninterested in anything related to studies), Ferdinand had declared himself leader of the Black Eagles. However, no one in his house listened to him. As far as it mattered, the Black Eagles had no leader.

So when Hilda stepped into Seteth’s office, she was unsurprised to only see the stoic Dedue.

He greeted her with a distracted nod. Poor guy. Judging by the heavy bags under his eyes and the general ‘kicked puppy’ look to his face, he wasn’t coping very well. He clearly wasn’t sleeping.

He was a stark contrast to Hubert’s devotion. Where Hubert had been unstoppable in his fervor to, quote, _ “Find Lady Edelgard, even if I find only her bones,” _ unquote, Dedue was more subdue. Depressed, overwhelmed with despair, grappling with helplessness. It hurt to look at him, his face somehow managing to fall further and further each day that passed.

Hilda, between her new deer duties and her regular studies, had actually taken to checking up on him. _ Her, _ taking the time and more importantly the _ effort _to check on Dedue multiple times a day. She even started going a step further the past few days, doing what she could to distract the poor guy.

She’d started by dragging him to tea parties. He always refused, but never fought too hard when she physically pulled him to the greenhouse where she would then proceed to set up tea. She’d even learned one of his favorite blends of tea through sheer trial and error (his face had completely crumbled when she tried giving him Chamomile tea, so maybe trial and error had been a mistake). 

She started training with him too (UGH) which, while her _ absolutely least favorite, _ seemed to have the best results. Plus, she was actually learning a fair amount from him. But uuuuugh, sweaty. She figured out a hack to it though: invite Raphael. The two could go at it for _ hours. _ In fact, Raphael seemed to be a good friend for Dedue.

She hadn’t caught the whole conversation (and probably shouldn’t have caught any of it,) but apparently Raphael had some good wisdom when it came to losing loved ones. And apparently Dedue had a lot of _ experience _ with the same subject. Poor guy. But Raphael refused to let Dedue wallow, and Hilda was happy to see them interacting even without her meddling.

Beyond that, Caspar from the Black Eagles apparently caught wind of their joint training exercises and demanded to be included. It was very entertaining, watching the two lumbering giants and tiny Caspar train together. Even better, Caspar would often drag a reluctant Linhardt to the whole shabang. She’d actually began a blossoming friendship with her fellow lazy companion. 

Dedue never talked much, so it was good that Hilda could talk enough for the both of them. What little she had gotten him to talk about, she learned that he liked cooking and gardening. Claude would be so proud of her scheming when he got back. 

She managed to get Dedue and Lysithea in the same conversation, then steered it towards the topic of sweets. Lysithea did most of the talking, but Dedue interjected with his own input every so often. It was more than she could usually pry from the guy. Even better, she noticed the two of them baking sweets the very next day alongside a chatty Ashe and Mercedes. The day after that too. Sometimes the little timid girl of the Black Eagles would join too. She was pretty sure the girl’s name was Bernedetta? Her actions had sparked something of an unofficial cooking club.

She also managed to get Marianne to tend to some flowers in the Greenhouse while Dedue was there as well. As far as she eavesdropped, the two didn’t say so much as a single word together, but she did notice the two in the greenhouse together more than once.

Still, she kept a close eye on Dedue. Everyday that passed he seemed to wilt further despite her meddling. From the tidbits she overheard him quietly confess to Raphael… it sounded like he had no one left but Dimitri. She was good at reading people— something she wished she wasn’t so great at every time she caught Dedue eyeing a blade a little too closely.

She didn’t think he was that bad off. Yet. There was still hope for their lords to be found (and they _ would _ be found. They _ had _ to). Hilda was more worried about what would happen to Dedue if… 

She really, really really really did not want to even consider the possibility of Claude not being found. More than that though, she feared they _ would _find Claude and the other two. Feared they would find their bodies.

She didn’t think Dedue would handle the news gracefully. (Never mind how _ she _ would handle the news. It was easier to worry about Dedue).

“Oh yeah…” Hilda muttered aloud, snapping back to the present and rummaging through her bag. The two of them had been waiting for Seteth to return for a solid five minutes. _ Stupid Seteth, waking me up early and then being late... _

Hilda pulled out the two little accessories she had made the night before (because she wanted to help Dedue. That was all. She couldn’t sleep anyways. She needed the distraction).

She presented the first to a dull-eyed Dedue. “Ta-da! I noticed you only ever wear that one earring, which _ does _ look fab by the way. But! I got to thinking, what if you only wear it because it’s the only one you have? Well your pal Hilda thought that’d be a real crime! So I whipped this baby together, just for you.” She winked, handing over the little gold earring she had made.

Dedue accepted it, holding it up and staring at it with an only slightly glassy-eyed expression. She had spent a long time making sure the little lion’s face was just right, and she had to say she was pretty proud of how well it turned out.

“But wait, there’s more!” She said, drawing his attention back to her. She pulled out a bracelet, gold band with a matching lion’s face. “However, this one isn’t for you. But I’ll lose it if I hold onto it any longer, so you’ll have to give it to Dimitri for me when he gets back, ‘kay? Then you guys’ll match!”

He looked between the earring and bracelet held in each hand. He visibly swallowed. “You didn’t need to— ”

“—Nope! All I wanna hear is a,” she brought her voice low to a terrible husky impression of Dedue’s voice, “‘Thank you Hilda! You are so talented and incredible!’” 

Dedue huffed, but he couldn’t hide the small albeit tired smile as he looked back down at the two accessories. “Thank you Hilda.” His face fell the longer he looked, which was the opposite of what Hilda wanted. “Hilda… how do you do it? How can you be so sure?”

Hilda hid a wince. “So sure? Well I am pretty talented with my jewelry, so my confidence is well deserv—” 

Dedue silenced her with a sharp shake of his head. “Please. You know what I am referring to.”

Hilda sighed, breaking eye contact. “I mean, I don’t know Dimitri. Or Edelgard. I don’t even know Claude that well. But… I refuse to believe a simple pack of bandits could take them out.”

“Stronger people have died from less.”

Hilda shrugged. “Still.”

Dedue gave her an uncomfortably long stare. His eyes drifted down to the accessories in his hands. “Ah. You’re just as uncertain as I am, aren’t you.”

It wasn’t a question. Hilda blamed her flinch on her lack of sleep. If Claude was dead (and he wasn’t, _ he wasn’t) _ there would be no end to how bad it would be. He was the last heir to House Riegan. It might not be quite as devastating as it would be for the Kingdom to lose the last Prince or for the Empire to lose their last princess, but it would still be devastating. Best case scenario, Holst would get a seat at the round table, despite that being the last thing he wanted. Worst case scenario… Civil war.

The Knights of Seiros had no leads. They didn’t advertise that, but Hilda had her sources. She knew Dedue did too. All the trails they followed had led to dead ends. Probably the most damning evidence was the body of the professor that had been assigned to the three lords. Not that they had found the whole thing. It was easy to think that the three nobles could have been stripped of valuables and tossed into a fire to be disposed of. No corpses left to prove anything.

“Yet you still go on.” Dedue sighed, ignoring her internal conflict. “Denial has done you much good. It allows you to function.”

She frowned. “Hey now, I’m not in denial. I just have faith.”

She didn’t. She was totally in denial. But she wasn’t about to admit that.

The door to Seteth’s office opened, the man himself stalking into the room. Dedue quickly stuffed the accessories she made into his pocket, standing at attention. Hilda didn’t bother hiding her slumped posture. She was tired, Goddess strike her with lightning but she didn’t care.

She wasn’t too tired to notice Seteth’s tight expression, the way he moved too stiffly, how he held himself too carefully.

Seteth had bad news.

_ Seteth had bad news. _

Her stomach dropped as she felt a bolt of fear pass through her like a bolt of lightning. She sucked in a breath as a surge of adrenaline smothered her lingering tiredness. 

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as she stared wide eyed at Seteth. He hadn’t even said a word, but she just _ knew _ he had bad news.

“We have found Dimitri, Claude, and Edelgard,” he said in a tone too grave to mean that was all.

There was a moment of silence as Seteth took a single breath. Somehow, the tiny second never seemed to end. She didn’t want to know. She didn’t want to hear.

“They are alive.”

Hilda felt the air be punched from her lungs by sheer force of relief, her knees sinking to the floor. “Oh thank the Goddess…” she whispered.

Dedue exhaled a shaky breath.

“However, they have been marked by their time held captive.”

Seteth went on to explain what happened while the three lords were captured. Cruelly experimented on, made less than human. Hilda clenched her hands in front of her mouth, tears beginning to flow as he described only the necessary yet oh so grisly details.

Made less than human. _ Goddess. _

“Please,” Dedue’s voice cracked, “let me see him.”

Hilda wiped her eyes, rising to her feet. “Me too! Claude’s gotta know— he’s gotta know he’s still my mischief buddy! Even if he’s got hooves, there’s still no take backsies!” She couldn’t imagine what he must be feeling.

Seteth gave them a wane smile. “I am glad to hear it. I will take you to where they are resting. We plan to inform the rest of the monastery later this morning.”

Seteth didn’t need to lead them far. Hilda braced herself as she entered the room, but she still couldn’t stop the surprised gasp that left her lips.

As the door opened all three of the missing lords jerking awake from where they had been— in Hilda’s opinion— napping and cuddling _ adorably. _ Which in itself was odd. Ask anyone and they would agree Claude was very casual and free with his touches. Hilda knew better however, knowing an unexpected touch would make him bristle like a cat. Touch made him paranoid. Yet there he lay, right in the middle of a cuddle-puddle.

She knew it was rude to stare, but she couldn’t stop her eyes darting to Claude. Specifically the parts of him that were new. The three of them really were a pile of feathers and fur. 

It was one thing to be told what to expect. It was another to _ see _ it.

By the Goddess.

Dedue didn’t hesitate. He pushed past her, falling to kneel beside the bed where the missing heirs had been napping together. “Your highness!”

Dimitri’s face split into a wide smile, relief and simple joy overshadowing the dark rings around his eyes. “Dedue!” He shifted around Claude and Edelgard (but didn’t entirely disentangle himself, she noted) and hugged Dedue.

Hilda averted her eyes as Dedue began to sob. “I was so worried…” he whispered into Dimitri’s mane (_ his MANE Goddess that was so weird). _ It felt wrong to watch Dedue fall apart.

“I’m sorry I worried you,” Dimitri whispered back.

“I couldn’t protect you. I’m so sorry—”

“None of that Dedue. _ Please.” _

Claude cleared his throat, drawing her attention from the emotional reunion. “Well Hilda? I’ll admit, I really don’t want to see a girl cry, but I’ll be touched if you do!” He gave his old coy smirk. The one he _ knew _ didn’t fool her. She rolled her no doubt red rimmed eyes, wiping away at the tear tracks down her cheeks.

She marched over to his side of the bed and slugged his arm. “You dummy! Do you have any idea how worried I was?!”

Claude hung his head, rubbing his arm. “Oh yeah, I really feel the love here.”

She rolled her eyes. Then she plopped onto the bed beside Claude and wrapped him in a tight hug. He froze, his ears (Goddess, his ears) bolting up straight. She tried to retreat, but he gave a little chuckle and returned the hug. “So, what’s the verdict then?” he asked, gesturing to his deer half.

“The verdict,” she began, ignoring the tightness of her throat, “is that we all missed you. Deerly.”

“...Was that a pun?” He asked, pulling back from the hug, eyeing her with mock suspicion.

“You’ll have to get used to them, deer-boy. Think of it as payback.”

“If I’m gonna be _ ‘deer’ _ anything, it should be deer _ man.” _

She laughed, feeling high off her continued relief. She pointed at his white spots. “Your baby spots say otherwise!”

Claude threw back his head in a groan, wincing when his antlers (ANTLERS!) struck Edelgard’s head. “Ack, sorry.”

Edelgard rolled her eyes. She wacked him over the head with one of her wings in response.

Claude eyed the hallway. “So, no Lorenz? Seteth said he was getting our replacement class leaders.”

Hilda shook her head. “You _ so _ owe me. No way was I going to let Lorenz in charge of anything. And no, before you say it, I haven’t been slacking.” She sighed. “As much as I want to,” she muttered.

Claude blinked a few times, his ears twitching and relaxing. He hid his surprise well, but not well enough. She wondered if he realized how much expression his new ears gave away. “Well, looks like I really do owe you!”

She was pretty sure this was the first _ real _ genuine smile she’d ever seen from Claude.

The door opened as Manuela wheeled Hubert into the room. “Lady Edelgard…” he whispered.

“Oh Hubert…” Edelgard wiggled her way off the bed. Hilda couldn’t help as her eyes were drawn to the bright red scales the covered from her knees down to her inhuman feet. She couldn't help but compare them to Edelgard’s old bright red tights.

“I’m so sorry, Lady Edelgard,” Hubert whispered. Tears began to stream down his face, proving that he _ did _ actually have tear ducts. Somehow this felt even worse than seeing Dedue break down.

“None of that Hubert, please,” she whispered back, hugging her arms around him and enveloping him with her wings. “I’m very upset that you nearly got yourself killed, but that can come later.”

“Lady Edelgard, I have failed you in more ways than one. Your uncle, he—”

Her wings wrapped tighter around Hubert. “Not now. Don’t worry, I already assumed the worst. We’ll discuss it later, but all will be well.”

“I don’t deserve your forgiveness… It was my fault that— ”

“That’s right, you don’t deserve my forgiveness. Because there is nothing for me to forgive. _ Please, _ Hubert. I don’t want your guilt, I just want you to remain by my side.”

“Nothing could take me away from your side, Lady Edelgard.”

“Well this reunion went better than I expected, not gonna lie,” Claude murmured with a gentle smile. “Why don’t you catch me up, Hilda…”  
  


* * *

  
  


_ Child of Sothis. _ It was rare for mother’s name to be used, even rarer to be used without direct intent of invoking mother’s attention. To be declared a ‘Child of Sothis’ by the church was not the same as being an actual child of Sothis. Rather, it was a political term. In all her years as archbishop, she had only declared a total of four people as Children of Sothis. Two of those people had both been Cichol under different names. There had only been two mortals to ever receive the church’s full protection.

In a political sense, it gave diplomatic immunity from all of Fódlan. It made it unlawful to harm those chosen. Should any faction bring harm to a Child of Sothis, the Church and by extension all those allied with the Church were obligated to destroy the perpetrator. To harm a Child of Sothis was among the greatest sins listed in the scriptures.

In a holy sense, it was a declaration of direct blood ties to the Goddess herself. It was, in a way, a form of adoption. It elevated mortals to just under the Saints themselves. The process did not cut ties with previous blood relations, but it did give freedom to reject any duties that came from the original relations. 

It fit the three children mother had brought home perfectly.

Her thoughts flickered to mother’s vessel. Mother clearly did not remember much yet, but she knew that would change. The signs were all there. The fact that mother was _ here _ now, within the monastery, was a sign itself.

The blood within the three children reeked of her siblings. Whatever had been done to them had made their crests more potent. Yet _ how _ it had been done was a mystery. Her own experiments had never come nearly so close. It made her itch to retire to mother’s tomb where she could experiment. She’d hit a dead end decades ago, but now… She itched to take apart the three children. Surely she would learn something new. But no, she couldn’t. Their second disappearance would bring too much attention. Beyond that…

Mother clearly favored the children. Mother had _ spoken _ to them. Not just mother’s vessel, but _ mother herself. _

_ Why? Why _ ** _them_ ** _ and not _ ** _her_ ** _ ? Why? Why? _

It _ must _ have been a miracle directly from mother that the three had not been turned into demonic beasts. Her own attempts at imbuing anything beyond her own crest to humans resulted in disaster every time. A lone human, mad cultist or not, could not succeed where even she had failed. It must have been mother’s intervention.

Mother’s will was clear, clearer than ever in the long stretch of lonely years. Mother may not have directly spoke to her, but she knew how to interpret these signs. Mother loved these three children. Mother claimed them as blood kin. 

That made _ her _ their older sister. They were mother’s children now too, just as she was.

More important than blood, they were _ weapons. _ They would be the axe, lance, and bow that felled the remnants of those fools that so defiled her family long ago. She had grown too lax. She had thought those _ rats _ exterminated, but mother could not be wrong. They must still be around. The _ Agarthans. _

Clearly the three children were to be mother’s champions. It pained her that mother chose someone other than herself. Mother was telling her that she was to be in a support roll this time. Perhaps because she failed. Over and over and over she failed to bring mother back to life. It had taken her all these long centuries to finally create the perfect vessel for mother, and she’d gone and _ lost _ the vessel. She had been relieved when Seteth had informed her that the three heirs had been found and returned to the monastery. She had nearly wept with joy when she saw that it was mother’s very vessel that had returned them. For two decades she had believed mother’s heart had been lost in that fire. Yet mother’s vessel lived and breathed and returned back to _ her. _

She would not fail again. No, she would prove to mother that she could do better. 

She knew mother did not remember much yet. She knew, but the cold shoulder she felt every time mother looked at her with suspicion hurt. The blankness in mother’s eyes. The lack of recognition.

Then mother would turn a protective gaze to the three children. Mother’s _ new _ children.

Jealousy was not a holy emotion, and so she cast it aside. 

It hurt how distrustful mother was. She had hoped mother would, at least subconsciously, seek to reunite. Yet her attempts to extend invitations to mother were all rejected or stalled. Mother waited on Jeralt’s opinion— an opinion she knew would not be favorable.

She would not stand to have mother leave. Not again. Never again. Yet she couldn’t force mother to do anything. She’d seen the look in mother’s eyes. If it weren’t for the three children, mother would have already left. It wouldn’t have mattered if all the Knights were sent after mother, mother would have left.

If mother refused to stay for the eldest child, then perhaps mother would stay for the three youngest. 

It was fine. If this was the penance she must endure for failing her mother so long ago, she would not disappoint. She would sharpen mother’s new favorite weapons and aim them at mother’s killer.

She would see to it that they were protected. She would see to their safety. She would keep them close, and through them keep mother close too.

On the date marking the second week the students had officially been missing, she gathered all within the monastery for her proclamation. The knights, the students, the staff. A dark cloud hung over the crowd, murmurs of worry and concern. 

With a smile, she presented the good news: the three missing students had been found and returned by the blessing of the Goddess. She allowed the cheer that swept through the crowd.

She brought forth the three students, mother standing protectively beside them. She could smell the fear wafting from the three, but they gave no outward show of it. _ What good little children they are _. She quelled the crowd’s shock and surprise. She waxed praise for their bravery. She told of their captivity and their visions. She declared their altered bodies that of divine intervention, their changes a blessing and a holy miracle.

She made certain there would be no misunderstandings. She claimed them as Children of Sothis, more gasps rippling through the crowd at the rare decree. She declared them holy. She declared them divine-touched. She declared them scions of a new dawn.

She wove the tale of a coming darkness, a return of the Goddesses oldest enemy. She told of vile evil that would seek to choke the coming years ahead. She told of Fódlan’s hope and salvation lying within the three handpicked by the Goddess. She told of the coming return of the Goddess in physical form.

She then reminded the crowd that the punishment for harming a Child of Sothis was death. Be they from the Empire, Kingdom, Alliance, or even from within the Church itself.

She had scribes write her proclamation and she had couriers deliver her words across the land.

She would not allow harm to befall mother’s favorite.


	2. Anxiety! In The Classroom

**Saturday, 3rd of Harpstring Moon**

Dimitri was nervous.

Agitated, tense, uneasy, worried, eyes flickering to every shadow, worried, restless...

Nervous.

He clasped his hands behind his back and straightened. Took a deep breath. Closed his eyes. In… out… in… out…

He opened his eyes and was craning his neck back and forth before he realized it, his eyes searching. He brought a hand to clutch at his head, reining in the growl of frustration that so desperately wanted to be set free.

Only a few more minutes. He’d have to face his class again. His stomach churned at the thought. How could he face them? He was a beast. An _ animal. _

But none of them would see that (save Felix). No, they’d look at him and see _ divinity. _ Curse Rhea! That woman had taken the cover Claude had made and ran with it— not just ran with, she’d taken it to an entirely new level! Her announcement had only been a few hours ago. Dimitri hadn’t seen many people other than the usual bunch already briefed on their situation, but the handful of staff or students he’d passed on his way to the classroom…

He expected disgust. Fear. Hatred. Not… reverence. Awe.

_ Undeserved. _

It felt worse to see expectant eyes upon him. It was a _ lie. _ He was the opposite of holy. He was an uncouth creature, tainted by evil experiments. A blasphemer. Hells, he planned to help El commit a _ coup _ on the Church! He had to admit though, he finally understood El’s distrust for Lady Rhea. There had been something predatory about her eyes. And yet, she had granted them the highest form of asylum. She went above and beyond for them, and he was planning on betraying that trust.

He was a monster. How was he supposed to enter his class and face them? Face his childhood friends? It shouldn’t be a problem. He’d been a monster for years. Felix knew. This was nothing new. The only difference now was that his outward appearance matched his inner vile self.

Dimitri gave into the urge to pace. He tried to ignore the way the ground felt beneath his bare toes, the way the thick padding buffered his feet from the cold floors. He cursed again the new shape of his feet. With the way his ankle rose up, there were no shoes that would fit him. Not that he needed them, much like both Claude and El. His new feet were designed to withstand rough terrain. Still, he felt bare. _ An animal. _ He didn’t even have his old gauntlets. It felt wrong to be so exposed.

He wanted to claw away at his skin. He wanted to bite into something, to chew and gnaw with his teeth. He wanted to rip his school uniform to pieces, to punch a hole through the wall, to yell and scream. He wanted— 

He wanted El. He wanted Claude.

_ Pathetic. Pathetic. _

He shouldn’t think of them.

Yet his eyes still roamed the empty space before him. His mind conjured images of his friends in the clutches of that madman. 

They were fine. They were safe.

_ They will be killed. _

He was _ pathetic. _ Not even 15 minutes of separation and he was losing his mind. He knew he had been getting dangerously attached, but this… 

_ Why haven’t you avenged us yet!? _

He needed to— needed to— needed to do _ something. _ Anything. 

_ You promised you would avenge us! _

The door before him creaked open. “Your Highness?” Dedue’s soft voice called, saving him from the judging stares of the dead.

Dimitri sighed. Took a deep breath. Reined in his impulses. “Coming, Dedue.”

He crept through the open door, hesitation painting his every step. He closed the door behind him as gently as he could (not at all). He did his best to appear as he usually did.

Ears laid flat against his skull, tail tucked between his legs, mane bristled, and shoulders hunched. He couldn’t even keep the pinched expression from his face.

Hiding how he felt had always been a weakness of his.

The whole class stared at him. It was only fair. He knew he was an odd sight. They had all gotten a brief glance at him during Rhea’s big announcement, but he had been distant up on the dais with the Archbishop. He ignored the stares as he passed the desks to stand before the class at the front of the room. He resisted the urge to fidget.

“I am certain you all heard the announcement,” he began, his mouth feeling too dry. “I am beyond grateful for my rescue, and I intend to resume my studies the same as before I was kidnapped. I do not want anyone thinking any higher of me.” His tail twitched from behind him. He swallowed. “Despite my physical… alterations, I am no different than before. I do not wish to distract from anyone’s studies.”

He finished his speech, finally daring to look at his classmates. 

Ingrid held her hands clasped over her mouth, a furrow along her brow as she watched him. Sylvain was uncharacteristically serious, his gaze oddly piercing, like he was looking for something in Dimitri. Felix all but sneered at him, perhaps comfortable in the familiarity of it. Ashe stared at him with wide eyes, eyebrows raised to hairline and mouth agape. Annette’s eyes were fixed on him, darting across his body as she took in his new changes. Mercedes… looked normal? She met his eyes without hesitation, giving him a reassuring smile. Not one of those awe-inspired ones that half the monastery gave him, just… her normal smile.

Mercedes stood up. “I think I speak for everyone when I say I’m so happy you made it back home.”

Dimitri nodded his gratitude. He rolled his shoulder, wanting to get out of the spotlight. It was hard to relax, but he felt his mane finally lay flat against his neck, his ears no longer pressed to his head.

“Speak for yourself,” Felix muttered, too quiet for anyone else to hear, “the boar has become a beast.” Yes, that was what he expected.

He glanced around the room, but couldn’t find their professor. His ears perked, an unwilling motion as he searched the room with his eyes. “Pardon the silly question, but where is our professor?”

Dedue shook his head. “Currently, the monastery only has two professors employed. The third did not live through the bandit attack that captured you.” Dedue’s expression turned dark. “It was he who disclosed your location.”

“The Church has been trying to hire a third professor, but they’ve been very careful about it, so I hear,” Mercedes added.

“Hmph. It’s a disgrace that they even hired that dead fool in the first place,” Felix commented.

“Oh. That explains Lady Rhea’s insistence Byleth become a professor, I suppose…” Dimitri said to himself.

“Byleth? Who’s that?” Sylvain asked. He leaned back and flashed Dimitri a casual smile. Dimitri was bad at reading the emotions of others, but even he could tell the smile was artificial. 

“Ah, she was the mercenary that saved Claude, El, and I.”

“Oh! I remember seeing her earlier this morning!” Annette piped up, looking only a little nervous. “She was the woman who stood behind you guys, right? She looked really intimidating!” 

“The archbishop wants to hire a random mercenary? Does she even have any teaching credentials?” Felix bit out. “Is the Church that careless with hiring?”

Dimitri shook his head. “She didn’t agree to the position anyways. Do we not have a professor at all?”

Dedue shook his head. “Until a third professor is hired, the houses are being taught on a rotation system. Every few days Hanneman and Manuela rotate houses, and Seteth, Jeriza, or Alois take over the odd house out.”

“I heard my name?” Alois shouted as he slammed open the door. “Apologies for being late!”

Dimitri jolted at the loud sound, his ears flying flat against his head. His mane puffed up, his shoulders rising as he tensed, his stance falling into something defensive.

The class was staring at him. Alois looked shocked.

Dimitri realized he just hissed at Alois. _ Hissed. _

He forced his body to relax. “A-apologies! You startled me.” His fight-or-flight instinct (definitely a fight instinct) quickly fell into embarrassment as his face heated up.

Alois recovered quickly, shaking his head. “No harm done! Sorry for spooking you.” His tone was softer than Dimitri had ever heard it, though no less bombastic.

“Your highness?” Ashe squeaked. “Uh, you’re bleeding?”

Looking down, Dimitri gave a soft curse. When he had tensed, his claws had come out. Manuela had theorized that his fingers would eventually adapt to the sharp things, but in the meantime anytime he unsheathed them they would break through the skin.

“Oh, here! Allow me!” Mercedes strode over to him. He was impressed with the lack of hesitation or fear she showed. “Can I see your hands?”

His hands were balled up and clenched into his chest. He huffed and presented them to her, looking away. The soothing feeling of healing magic washed over him. “Many thanks,” he murmured.

Alois approached the podium where Dimitri still stood. With slow and telegraphed movements, Alois patted his shoulder. “It’s good to see you back, Your Highness. Just let me know any way I can help out, alright?”

Dimitri nodded. “Thank you, professor. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Alois guffled. “I’m no professor! Why don’t you take your seat now? You haven’t FURgotten where you sit, have you?” Alois bounced his eyebrows. “Eh? Eh? Fur, like, well—”

Dimitri gave a tiny laugh. “Yes, yes. Thank you.”

He turned to sit down, not noticing Alois exhale in relief.

“So, _ El _ huh?” Sylvain ribbed him. “That’s a pretty cute nickname for the imperial princess.” If Dimitri hadn’t known Sylvain for the majority of his life, he probably wouldn’t have seen through the other’s charade. As it was, he still didn’t know what Sylvain wanted. There was something almost pensive in the way Sylvain’s eyes seemed to pierce right through him. He didn’t have time to question Sylvain though, as Alois jumped straight into a lesson.  
  
  
  


* * *

Claude wore his old nonchalant air about him like armor, despite the churning he felt in his gut. 

He knew he had been the one to suggest the ‘divine animal’ spiel to Rhea, but she had _ really _ taken the idea to the extreme. What was that nonsense about the physical return of the Goddess? They had said nothing like that to Rhea. He should probably just be happy she bought their story. It still made his knees feel weak remembering the whole ordeal, remembering her too-piercing eyes. But now the whole monastery was convinced the three of them were sent from the Goddess herself to end, what, the root of all evil? It was ridiculous. 

Nonetheless, it was all an excellent opportunity, and Claude was nothing if not an opportunist. There were so many ways he could spin the whole thing for his own ends, for his dream… Claim the Goddess sent them to end inequality? Or to open the borders? Surely if he contradicted the isolated doctrine of the church, people would have to listen to him now.

He was still reeling. Rhea had handed them power and a _ lot _ of it. He didn’t entirely know what Rhea had invoked when she claimed them ‘Children of Sothis’ but he _ did _ know it granted them a form of diplomatic immunity. If things went south with his ‘Heir to Riegan’ thing, the Alliance couldn’t touch him. Still, there was something off about the whole thing. Beyond the ‘Rhea isn’t human’ thing. He was missing context. Rhea knew something, something vital. He couldn’t help but think she had interpreted something different from their made up tales of the Goddess.

It was still disorienting the way people were treating him though. All his life he’d been the subject of the rumor mills. That hadn’t changed even when he came to Fódlan. But now the whispers were different. For once the rumors weren’t negative, and it baffled him.

… He was really beginning to see what Edelgard meant when she said the Church held the real power in Fódlan.

His eyes darted to his sides where he instinctively expected Edelgard and Dimitri to be. _ Gah, _ he’d gotten seriously codependent with those two. He couldn’t help but feel twitchy when they weren’t around. It was something he needed to get over. He hated how he felt himself instinctively trusting them. _ Trusting. Him. _ He didn’t _ trust _ people, never mind two powerful pieces from rival nations, two people that knew his most damning secret. He’d spent less than two weeks confined with them and now he trusted them with his life. It was utter insanity.

Yet there had been ample opportunities for both Dimitri or Edelgard to take him out during their capture. Times when he had been helpless and times when he had been useless. He was _ still _ surprised they hadn’t abandoned him to freeze when he’d lost the use of his legs. No, they’d _ protected _him. Swathed him in limbs and warmth, doing whatever little things they could to soothe his pains. Made sure he wasn’t alone.

And wasn’t that the real kicker? All his life his parents had made sure to teach him independence, no matter the cost. They made sure he could fend for himself, from patching up his own scrapes to dealing with assassination attempts. He took care of himself all on his own. What would they think of him now? It took less than two weeks to break him.

Just being alone was terrifying now. He _ was _terrified even in this moment. Just from being alone. He knew he was (relatively) safe in the Monastery. But every little sound made him tense or jump. His anxiety was not helped by the fact he was still unsteady on his feet. Walking and standing was fine, but running was a 50/50 bet at this point. Add together the smooth floors inside the buildings of the monastery that left him scrambling for purchase… It made him feel helpless.

_ Twin black eyes and long beak bearing down, can’t move can’t run can’t move. Dimitri too far away Edelgard too far away all alone all alone all alone please I can’t die here— _

He shook himself breathing out a shuddering breath. He was _ fine _ dammit. He’d been alone for the past 17 years of his life, another five minutes should be simple. And yet… He perked his ears, straining to hear. He could hear chatter from all three classrooms, nothing concrete. Couldn’t hear Dimitri or Edelgard though.

The memory of Edelgard’s shrill scream or Dimitri’s blank eyes still haunted him, as much as he tried to distance himself. Pathetic. Gods he was pathetic. Dimitri and Edelgard were probably relieved to finally have their own space again. He needed to get a grip… He was used to being alone, why should a measly two weeks change that?

“Oh Claaaaaude!” Hilda called from the now open door.

He flashed her a cocky grin, hiding the small twindle of relief her presence brought. He still didn’t feel safe, but he felt slightly less in danger. No time to dwell on his doubts.

He trotted into the classroom, resisting the urge to glare at the slick floor that threatened to land him flat on his face. Each sharp _ click click click _ of his hooves grated at his confidence.

He lifted a hand in a wave. “Heya guys, didja miss me?” He wandered up to the front of the classroom, knowing he be pelted by a bombard of questions. Unexpected was the suffocating silence. Shocked faces greeted him from all but Hilda who gave him an apologetic half-smile.

He put his arms around the back of his head and leaned back a little in his old pose. He wasn’t in his old _ body _ however and nearly sent himself sprawling at the change of balance. He saved himself with only a small grunt and a shift of hooves— nothing too odd. He doubted anyone noticed.

“Alright, I _ know _ you all saw me earlier today. I know, I know. It’s all shocking and weird. Trust me, it’s double weird for me.” He was still treated to an awkward silence. He sighed. “Well, looks like not much has changed in my absence.” His eyes roved over to Lysithea. He opened his mouth to tease her before _ white hair, double crests _ rang like a gong through his mind and he shifted targets. “Seriously Lorenz, you still haven’t gotten a haircut? Gotta say, I’m surprised you weren’t celebrating while everyone thought I was dead.”

This snapped a response out of the class, though not the one he expected. “Goddess Claude, you can’t think I was happy at the news of your death!” Lorenz all but gasped.

“Aw, touching.” Claude rolled his eyes. “Out of character too. You’ve never been quiet about your dislike for me.”

Lorenz shook his head. “That doesn’t mean I wanted you dead! Besides…” Lorenz refused to make eye contact with Claude. “It appears the Goddess herself has endorsed you. You will find no more resistance from me.”

Claude didn’t bother to stop his jaw from dropping. A spike of paranoia gripped him. “So, a shapeshifter replaced Lorenz? What else changed?”

“Excuse you?!” Lorenz rose and pointed a finger at Claude. Then he flinched and looked away, sitting back down. “Ahem. Please excuse my outburst. I apologize.”

“Bwuh?” Was the only sound Claude could form.

Hilda groaned. “Lorenz has been like this since Lady Rhea made that announcement.” She lowered her voice in a mockery of Lorenz. “‘I can’t believe the Goddess chose Claude, _ Claude _ of all people!’ and ‘Have I been wrong all this time? Claude speaks on behalf of the Goddess now!’ Ugh, he hasn’t _ shut up _ about it.”

Lorenz turned red. “I do _ not _ sound like that! How dare you!”

“No way… Seriously?” He looked at the rest of the class. Lysithea looked like she’d bitten into something sour, staring intently at her desk. Marianne’s eyes flickered to him and then away, never staying still. Leonie sat stiff as a board, her eyes boring a hole just to the side of his shoulder and not wavering from that spot. Ignatz was frankly creeping him out with how intently he examining him. Raphael was looking between classmates, like he was confused on how he was supposed to be acting.

“H-he’s not wrong, though,” Ignatz whispered. “Claude, you’ve _ seen _ the Goddess herself!” His whisper seemed to bounce around the silent classroom.

“Yeah okay, I saw the Goddess,” he lied, “so what? Look, it’s not that big of a deal.”

“You’re the Golden Deer, Claude. _ The Golden Deer! _ Like, from the old legends!” Leonie said stiffly, her eyes still refusing to look straight at him.

The Golden Deer. _ That _ was what had them in such a tizzy? Old legends about a sacred deer that protected the original Riegan back in the days the 10 Elite. After the fight with Nemesis, it was said the Golden Deer retired to the Riegan lands and protected the forest. Protected the forest, protected the people that stumbled lost, and punished poachers.

Over the centuries the legend only grew, expanding to most of the Leicester territory in one form or another. A great deer spirit that guided and protected those who needed help most. In one’s darkest hour, it was said, The Golden Deer would save the worthy and the innocent.

With a small sense of dread, he realized how well the legend matched up with Rhea’s exaggerated take on a coming darkness. A darkness she claimed _ Claude _ would be one of three to stop.

Claude groaned into his hands. “You guys have it wrong. I’m not _ the _ Golden Deer. I’m not a _ deer _at all!” He waved a hand to his torso. “Look! Still human. Er, partially.”

“It is said,” Lysithea began, “that the original Lord Riegan rode the Golden Deer into battle against the King of Liberation.” She waved a hand to his stomach and gestured upward. “Riegan.” She gestured downwards. “Golden Deer.”

Claude blanched. “That’s…” He took a breath, leveling his expression. He needed to reroute this conversation. “That’s the most childish thing I’ve ever heard.”

“WHO ARE YOU CALLING A CHILD?!” Lysithea bolted up in an instant, eyes on fire and murder on her mind.

“Lysithea! Calm yourself!” Lorenz of all people came to Claude’s rescue. “You must watch your language. That’s no way to speak to the Golden Deer.”

Nope, no. That wouldn’t do _ at all. _ He already missed the old insufferable Lorenz. _ Either he was a deer or he was some divine instrument of the Goddess. _ He was still just a _ person, _ dammit. “You guys do realize Rhea was exaggerating right? She needed to give people _ some _ reason not to stick me full of arrows and spilt me over a roast.”

“What? You can’t possibly be trying to say Lady Rhea lied, can you?” Ignatz gasped.

Claude waved a hand. “No, no, she didn’t lie…” He grimaced just remembering her big speech. He couldn’t help but think she really believed all the things she told the crowd. Which… had been the goal. She just took it further than he ever expected. “She just put a little extra emphasis on certain bits. Look, just because I’ve got hooves instead of feet now doesn’t mean I’m any different.”

“Told ya,” Raphael said, oddly smug as he leaned back with his hands over his head. “Claude’s still Claude, that hasn’t changed.”

“But…” Ignatz began before swallowing whatever he was going to say.

“Claude, you don’t really think people would, uh, ‘stick you full of arrows’ just because of how you look now, do you?” Leonie asked with a grimace. He knew she was referring to his likeness to common hunting game. He had been referring to that too. But the way she phrased it, he couldn’t help but remember the many times over the course of his life people had tried to kill him just because he looked different.

Claude shrugged. “People shoot each other for less. People don’t like things that are different from themselves.”

“If anyone tries to shoot you, just let me know!” Raphael said, “I’ll take care of ‘em for you! I’m no good with words, but I’ve still got your back Claude. Just because you look a little different now doesn’t make you any less of a person!”

Trust that it was Raphael that managed to hit the heart of it all. Claude didn’t let his expression shift, but internally he was gaping. Was he that transparent, or had Raphael just gotten a lucky guess?

Claude still had trouble wrapping the idea around his head that people like Raphael exist. Honest and earnest to a fault, yet somehow wise enough to see past things other people got hung up on. He spared a smile. “Thanks Raphael. That means a lot to me.”

“Raphael, that is no proper way to talk the Goddess’s Chosen!” Lorenz hissed. 

A rush of red filled his vision. “Dammit Lorenz, I’m not a _ thing!” _ He grit his teeth, already berating himself for losing his cool. He huffed, forcing his face to relax. He met Lorenz’s shocked eyes with a serious look. “Look. I’m _ me, _ not some, some— vessel or some nonsense.”

“But, the Goddess blessed—”

“I’m going to stop you right there. The only thing the Goddess blessed me with was _ escaping that damned cultist torture room!” _ He didn’t shout, but it was a near thing. His ears were flared out, his body tense. His breathing picked up just thinking about it. _ Where was Edelgard? Where was Dimitri? Why was he alone? _

He shook his head. _ Stay in the present. Stay in the present. _ The present was Lorenz gaping at him.

“Y-you were tortured?” Marianne whispered.

He winced. Damn. So much for keeping his secrets close to his chest— he was practically spewing them! _ What was wrong with him? _ Well to start with he’d just gone through a rather traumatic experience. That wasn’t helping his emotional equilibrium. Plus he was pretty sleep deprived. He needed to get a handle on himself. He just hated how out of control everything felt. Events were spiraling by too fast— A day ago he wasn’t even back at Garreg Mach. He hadn't had any chance to sit down and just… process everything.

He supposed that the fact that he had been tortured wasn’t exactly a secret. He just hadn’t planned to bring it up. He crossed his arms. “You all heard Lady Rhea talk about how we were held captive. What, did you think I was out picnicking while I was missing?” He waved a flippant hand. “It wasn’t actually that bad, don't worry about it.”

His eyes met Hilda’s. She was the only one who had been briefed on the whole of his experience (at least, everything the three of them had shared). She was the only one who knew his transformation had been an agonizing result from experimentation. Everyone else just thought the changes were a good thing. _ A blessing. _Hilda was smart, she would have noticed the differences between what she had been told personally and Rhea’s speech. She would understand the implications. People would either fear or pity his animalistic changes if they knew the real cause. People had no choice but to see the positive if the changes were described as divine blessings. It was for the best. But it was hard to pretend nothing had happened.

“So, Claude,” Hilda began in an overly sweet tone, “you know I hate doing work, but I’ll make this an exception. Who needs to pay?”

Claude gave her a fond smile. “Only the dead. That dastard got what he had coming to him.”

“Wait, backup! You can’t just move on from that, _ you were tortured?!” _ Leonie backpedaled the conversation.

Claude resisted the urge to groan. “Yup, and I’d rather not think about it if it’s all the same to you. It is? Great! So, any other questions class?” Claude asked, fake grin spread across his face. “None? Perfect!” Claude clapped his hands, not giving a chance for anyone to actually ask anything.

“U-um!” Marianne spoke up, raising a timid hand. “I h-have a question! It’s, um, it’s not about, a-anything bad...”

Claude raised his eyebrows, surprised. Had the _ entire _ class been replaced with shapeshifters while he was away? At least Hilda was still normal. Normal Hilda, glaring a hole in his head and promising him death if he ignored Marianne. Claude gave the usually meek girl a wave of his hand to go ahead.

“Um, I was just wondering…” she trailed off, mumbling quietly into her hands, “what’s it like to be part deer?”

Claude’s ear flicked. Such an innocent question. “What was that? Didn’t catch the last part of your question,” he lied. He didn’t plan to reveal his enhanced hearing if he could help it. Marianne repeated her question. “It’s, uhh…” He blanked trying to think of a way to describe it. _ ‘Different’ _ didn’t really encompass how strange the whole ordeal was. He shrugged. “It’s very leggy.”

“Leggy?” Hilda asked.

Claude shook one of his hind legs. “Leggy. Got four now.”

“Are you going to get horseshoes?” Marianne asked.

He blanched. “I— What?”

Marianne shrunk in on herself, looking down at the floor. “U-um. Well, horses get horseshoes in order to protect their hooves. I was just wondering... S-sorry, I shouldn’t pry.”

“I haven’t thought about it,” he admitted. “Only had these for four days, half of that time I was still locked up or stumbling back to Garreg Mach.”

“Only four days?” Lorenz gasped. “That’s…” 

Claude shrugged. “Yeah? I’m still adjusting, cut me some slack.” His words came out snappier than he meant to.

“What was the Goddess like?!” Ignatz burst from his seat, having been holding back his question for too long.

“Oh, uh…” Claude tried to remember how the church described her. _ Did _the church describe her? He couldn’t actually remember anyone mentioning anything about what the Goddess looked like. “She was really pretty. Even Dimitri and Edelgard were drooling over her.” Claude let out a small chuckle remembering their reaction to Byleth. “A true sight for sore eyes. Most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen— a warrior goddess. She was… eh, motherly?” He figured that would be enough to satisfy Ignatz.

Ignatz was transfixed. “Incredible… tell me more! I have to paint her! What was her hair like? What was her build like? What coloring did she have? Was—” 

“Woah woah… I don’t really remember? It happened so fast…”

“O-oh…”

Ignatz had a devastating kicked puppy face. “Gah, don’t give me that look! I’ll ask Edelgard and Dimitri what they remember, alright?”

“You will? Oh thank you!”

“... You really are still the same…” Lorenz murmured. Claude rolled his eyes. He resolved to prank the pants off Lorenz if he kept this weird reverence act up.

The doors creaked open. Claude tensed, ears bolting straight up. His eyes darted to the door, then around the room.

_ Where was Dimitri? Where was Edelgard? Why was he alone? _

_ He was going to be taken next. He was alone. _

“Apologies for being late,” Hanneman’s soft voice called as he closed the door behind him.

Claude shook himself, forcing his breathing even. He wasn’t locked up. He was fine.

Hilda caught his eyes, miming an impossible to interpret series of gestures. She clearly noticed his laps, but glancing around the room it didn’t look like anyone else had.

“Mr. von Riegan, you may take your seat. I hope you know I have no intentions to show favoritism, despite your interesting crest.”

Claude fought the groan he wanted to give. _ Thanks Hanneman, just shout it from the rooftops. _ Granted, he wasn’t trying to keep his newly Major crest a secret— it was actually a big part in keeping people’s favor of him high and not in the ‘abomination’ camp. Still.

Claude just nodded his response. Then took two steps, slipped, and landed flat on his face.

Any pride he had left was smashed to smithereens when he was unable to stand back up. In the end, Hilda had to carry him back to his seat.

  
  


* * *

Edelgard wasn’t sure what she should expect. She wasn’t particularly close with most of her class.

She was relieved that Hubert was alright. She was still angry at him for recklessly endangering his life, but she wasn’t surprised at his actions. It wasn’t the first time he’d chased after her. The year her uncle had taken her away to live in Fhirdiad was a prime example. Now that she was back, alive and well, Manuela had agreed to heal Hubert’s broken leg. The healer had refused to heal it before, knowing Hubert would just go gallivanting out into the night again. Edelgard was grudgingly impressed by the simple solution. 

She still needed to speak with Hubert about the changes in their plans. She also needed to get an update about whatever was going on in the Empire. Her uncle had declared her dead a little _ too _quickly. Considering his alternate identity as Thales, it was clear he had known something about her kidnapping. Clearly not enough though, considering he hadn’t expected her return.

Not even Those who Slither in the Dark had been aware of what exactly had happened to her. That in itself spoke volumes about how unlikely their rescue had been. Those who Slither had technology beyond comprehension, and they used that technology extensively in their recon. She couldn’t be too upset at the Church’s inability to find them. The fact that they retrieved Hubert and kept him alive before she returned was more than enough to forgive the knights for this blunder.

Her thoughts drifted to Rhea. In hindsight, she shouldn’t have agreed to Claude’s crazy plan to lie to the archbishop. It was reckless. Still, she didn’t regret it. Though a gamble, it had been the best option at the time. It worked out well in the end, but she was still waiting for their words to come back to bite them. They lied to the face of the archbishop. The archbishop, a being likely older than the Adrestian Empire itself, and also an inhuman beast of unknown power. Their conversation could have turned out very, _ very _ poorly for them. In the end, not only had Rhea _ believed _ them, _ beyond a shadow of a doubt, _ Rhea had backed them to the point of declaring them Children of Sothis. That itself was staggering. The sheer amount of influence that gave the three of them still made her head spin. All these years she had planned to take down the church by force, and now Rhea was two steps away from _ giving _ her everything she wanted on a silver platter.

It was too good. She was missing an important part of the picture. Clearly Rhea had known something else, something she held back. The political immunity Rhea had granted them was a convenient solution for keeping people from attacking them for their odd appearances, but this went beyond that. What Rhea had done went beyond the simple excuse of ‘these three had a vision from the Goddess’. Rhea had pinned the hopes and futures of the entire _ faith _ on the three of them. 

Edelgard didn’t trust Rhea. Clearly Rhea had _ plans _ for the three of them. Edelgard had traded being a pawn of Those who Slither for being a pawn of the Church. But that was fine. She could work with this. She just couldn’t let her guard down. She couldn’t describe the way Rhea looked at them, but it was unnerving. She had to commend both Dimitri and Claude on their composure in the face of the woman.

Her wings pressed tighter against her back. Dimitri. Claude. Damn her but she itched to see them, and they hadn’t been separated for more than 15 minutes. Claude could hardly walk without tripping on his face, what if he tripped in front of his class? And Dimitri was still growling at every small thing that surprised him, what if he lashed out at his classmates? What if their classmates rejected them? Attacked them?

She was spiraling, she knew this. It was clear no one would be attacking them within the monastery. Rhea had seen to that, just as she said. The few people she had run into since the proclamation had nearly tripped over themselves in her presence. She knew it would fade after time, but it was unnerving.

Then there was Rhea’s reaction to Edelgard’s crest. Her Crest of Flame specifically. The surprise had been expected. Then Rhea had shifted her eyes to Byleth for some reason, her expression souring for a moment.

_ “The Goddess favors you the most, it would seem,” _ Rhea had said to her. The tone had been odd. Almost… jealous? But then Rhea was all serene smiles again. Edelgard was grateful Dimitri and Claude had been by her side at the time. Just thinking about it left her aching to go to the two of them. Safety in numbers, both for herself and for them. Goddess, she was pathetic. She was stronger than this. 

She was dreading nightfall. She had practice ignoring her fears during the daylight, but it was when night fell that she fell apart. Something about the never ending darkness always reminded her of those awful memories beneath Enbarr. She knew it would only be worse now. 

“Lady Edelgard?” Hubert’s soft voice brought her back to the present. She nodded to him, pushing her thoughts to the back of her mind. 

She entered the classroom with her head held high, her wings held proud at her back and her stride unbroken. She didn’t bother glancing around at her classmates, she couldn’t show a sliver of weakness. She took her place in the front of the classroom. Only then did she let her eyes drift to her classmates, gaze piercing and absolute. _ Like a hawk, _ she couldn’t help but think.

Ferdinand had a mixed look between stricken and relieved. Linhardt was uncharacteristically alert, meeting her gaze with eyes that tried to unravel her secrets. She couldn’t help but compare his gaze with that of Rhea’s. Caspar was gaping, not bothering to hide his hanging jaw. Petra was excited, her eyes shining. Dorothea had a hand clasped over her lips, eyes wide and fixed on the large wings behind Edelgard’s shoulder. Bernadetta was, predictably, trying to hide under a book, her eyes squeezed shut. Hubert took his place by the door, his eyes focused on the class and any potential threats.

She opened her mouth to address the class, but Ferdinand beat her to it, rising to stand. “Edelgard! I speak for all of us when I say we are all beyond relieved to see you returned alive and well!” His words were passionate as always, but they didn’t hide the doubtful eye he cast, both on her and himself.

“It is as Ferdinand says!” Petra stood to join him, more boisterous. “We have much cause for celebration at your return! You have returned stronger for the trial you faced, blessed!”

Edelgard was surprised. She hadn’t expected a warm reception at all. She had expected… well, she wasn’t sure what she had expected. Scorn, maybe? She allowed a small smile to slip onto her face. “Thank you. I am happy to be back. I am pleased to see my absence has had no adverse effects.”

“Well I wouldn’t go that far,” Dorothea commented. “Ferdie sure did his best to make a mess of things.”

“D-Dorothea! How dare you—” 

Edelgard pinched the brow of her nose. _ That _ was closer to what she had expected.

“So, is anyone gonna address the elephant in the room? Ow, Linhardt!”

“You really don’t have an ounce of tact in your body, do you Caspar.”

“Caspar is right. It will do no good to ignore this, as it is permanent.” She spread her wings a little for emphasis. “Ask away.”

“So about your crest, how has it changed due to— Gah, Caspar!”

“Who doesn’t have tact _ now, _ huh Lin?”

Edelgard gave a small huff of amusement. She hadn’t known Linhardt long, but that was a question she expected. “To answer your question Linhardt, we don’t know the full changes to my crest yet. My minor crest is now major, but that doesn’t change much in the end.” Thank the Goddess Rhea hadn’t made any mention of her Crest of Flame. So far, aside from Hubert, Claude, and Dimitri, it was just Hanneman that knew of her secret crest. She had gotten Hanneman’s word he wouldn’t spread the facts around, so she should be relatively safe with that secret, for now at least.

“Oh! I am having a question!” Petra raised her hand high in the air. “Are you able to fly?”

Edelgard shook her head. “I haven't had the opportunity to try yet.” Her wings gave a small quiver at the thought. She’d been busy with survival, but now that Petra mentioned it…

She brought her thoughts back on track. This whole thing was going too well. She hadn’t exactly expected pitchforks (part of her had), but the entire class seemed to be taking it all in stride. Well, maybe not Caspar, but he wasn’t being rude. Just shocked.

“Why is no one surprised?” Edelgard found herself questioning, a tinge of paranoia gripping her.

“I-I’m surprised!” Bernadetta squeaked before hiding back under her book.

“We’re _ all _ surprised. It’s not every day that your supposed dead classmate sprouts wings by the will of the Goddess.” Linhardt interrupted himself with a yawn. “But it’s too much energy to get worked up over it.”

“Honestly, I’m still expecting to wake up any time now. It hasn’t really sunk in yet. This whole thing is like fantasy— something I’d expect to perform an opera about, not actually live through.”

Edelgard huffed a mirthless laugh. “I can’t help but agree with you, Dorothea.”

“Edelgard, I have a question.” Ferdinand cleared his throat, a wary eye flickering to Hubert before fixing back on her. “I mean no offense when I ask this. But I must know— are you still fit to lead the Empire?”

“Ferdinand!” Petra, surprisingly, burst out, “Edelgard has been blessed! She is stronger than before, even more fit to lead!”

Edelgard shook her head, waving a subtle hand to Hubert to stand down. “The question is a valid one. Thank you Petra for your vote of confidence, but strength is not what matters now. The answer is personally a painful one— I am still fit to lead, yes. But I have no doubt I will be rejected. Even when the news of my survival reaches the capitol, I have no doubt in my mind that they will continue to search for a new heir.”

This was a truth she had come to accept while still locked away in that cold cell. To say it out loud still rankled though. The class stared at her with shock. Even Hubert was surprised, though she had to guess he was more shocked at what she said rather than the actual situation. He knew as well as she did, if not better, that Those who Slither would not accept her on the throne.

“Wait, for real?” Caspar gasped. “But… you’re the princess! The only surviving heir! They can’t change that, not even if you sprouted a couple of feathers. Right?”

Edelgard shook her head. “They can, and I have no doubt that they will.”

“You are giving up…” Ferdinand gasped, disbelieving.

“I am not giving up,” Edelgard snapped. “I am working with what I have. I have no ploy or plot that will keep me on the throne. Were it not for Lady Rhea’s proclamation—” She stopped, realizing it did her no good to undermine the Empire. Though these were her classmates, she couldn’t trust them. Not with this.

Were it not for Rhea’s protection, she had no doubt she would have been recalled to the capitol to never be seen again. She had no plans to permanently give up the throne. Far from it. But until her uncle and the rest of Those who Slither were dealt with, she had no choice but to remain within the church’s protection. Once her enemies were gone, she could regain her spot as Emperor. In the meantime, she would cultivate her connections within the Church. She still had a goal of bringing it all down, after all.

She took a breath. “You may choose to see my actions however you wish, Ferdinand. You always have. But you’re a fool if you think I’m planning to roll over and die.”

“Yet you plan to give up on the Empire so easy! You are abandoning your duty. You have already given up so early, and the empire does not even know you still live!” Ferdinand shouted.

“If I receive word that the Empire is in celebration of my survival, I’ll bow at your feet myself Ferdinand. But that won’t be what happens.”

“You have no faith in your fellow nobles.”

“Faith is useless against facts.”

“I—”

The doors flung open as Manuela walked in. “Sorry I’m late!”

Edelgard gave a head nod in greeting, inwardly glad for the interrupted debate. Words would not sate Ferdinand. 

Manuela spared Edelgard a wane smile. The woman had dark circles under her eyes, her hair a mess. Edelgard knew Manuela’s lack of sleep was not caused by her usual antics. Rather, the healer had been running herself ragged for their sake. Edelgard knew Manuela was sending out many letters to various veterinary professionals she knew. Beyond that, the healer was day and night pouring over the test results of their health examinations. Trying to figure out what needed to be altered, what was needed for a healthy lifestyle. 

“Settling in alright?” Manuela asked her.

Edelgard nodded. “Indeed. I’ll take my seat now.” She spared a glance towards Ferdinand. He clearly had more he wanted to say, but he swallowed his words for now. He stared at her, nothing new about the challenge in his eyes. What _ was _new was the confusion tilting his brow as he tried to pick through her motivations.

Edelgard grimaced as she realized her old seat at the front of the class would block the vision of those behind her. She took a seat near the door, settling in beside a quivering Bernadetta. Hubert settled in beside her, causing Bernadetta to only shake more.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry Dimitri fans, but don’t worry, his section is only shorter because Ingrid, Sylvain, and Felix’s parts will come in more detail later. They deserve a setting all on their own without having to share the spotlight with the rest of the students, their feelings on the whole thing are more complex.
> 
> Woops, Claude’s section is a bit longer than the other two… He simultaneously writes himself and is also hard to write. He's so cagey and evasive, which is a difficult trait for me to write. I just want to smush everyone together and make them be friends. In other news, Raphael is best boi.
> 
> Dimitri: Now my monstrous outside matches my monstrous inside…  
Everyone else: D’aww, lookit those cute widdle ears...
> 
> Next chapter: Mealtime and nighttime


	3. Hilda Emblem: One House

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ack, I totally meant to put this up last week but ended up forgetting. FANART Aaaaa check out this adorable Claude by Willxichen:  
https://twitter.com/willxichen/status/1187065933250072580?s=21

**Saturday, 3rd of Harpstring Moon**

Class finally ended. All in all, Dimitri thought the whole period went as well as it could have. Most of his class was still uncertain how to act around him, but at least it wasn’t anything malicious. No one hated him (save Felix, but that was nothing new). 

More importantly, everyone was heading to the dining hall. All three classes. Entering the dining hall, it was easy to spot both El and Claude. He made a beeline for them, pleased to see them do the same. Claude gave a cheery wave.

Claude flung an arm around Dimitri’s shoulders. “Survived the first day back, eh?” His other arm wrapped El in a side hug.

El rolled her eyes, gingerly whacking the two of them with her wings. Perhaps he was reading too much into her actions, but the soft feathers seemed to linger before she tucked them away. Claude retracted his arms in a smooth motion, settling them behind his head. He felt colder for their loss, but he didn’t protest it. He was trying to keep his distance as well. The current rumors were enough for him— he didn’t want to think about the rumors that would spawn from how touchy-feely they were now.

Getting food was easy with the way that people created a bubble around them. On the bright side, the space seemed to be out of respect and not fear. The stares they received were a given, and even though they made him uneasy they were better than outright hostility.

Settling in with food, Dimitri was happy to see the other two following him to an out-of-the way table in the corner of the cafeteria. The three of them tucked together, pulling their chairs close. El to his left and Claude curling a bit awkwardly on two combined chairs to his right. One of El’s wings spread out to cover their backs, curling around with the end feathers coming to resting atop Claude’s sprawled deer half. The smoothness of the action led Dimitri to believe she hadn’t consciously done that— something proved correct a few moments later as she jerked and stiffened, her wing tensing. Claude patted the feathers, giving a soft hum. Dimitri was embarrassed to notice he had began purring, thankfully quiet. He coughed a little, but couldn’t get the purring to stop. El’s wing relaxed, and she huffed a small happy sigh.

Dedue and Hubert were dutifully following of course and sat across from them. As much as part of Dimitri craved to be alone with El and Claude, he couldn’t blame their retainers. Nor did he mind much anyways— he missed Dedue.

What did surprise him was Mercedes, being trailed by a nervous Annette and Ashe, settling in beside Dedue. “Is it alright if we sit here, your Highness?” Ashe asked.

Before he had a chance to respond, Hilda and surprisingly Lysithea joined them. Hilda plopped beside Claude while Lysithea wedged herself between Ashe and Annette. Linhardt slunk over to the table and sat beside Hilda, giving her a small greeting before dropping his head on the table and drifting off to sleep.

Dimitri wasn’t sure which was more surprising; the cluster of people or the slight blush on Dedue’s face as his eyes avoided Dimitri’s. Hubert seemed to bristle at the influx of people near him.

Hilda gave Claude a nudge. “Hope you’re proud of my scheming,” she whispered with a wink and a nod towards the cluster of outer-house friends. Dimitri probably wasn’t supposed to hear that. “Surprising how much everyone has in common with each other.”

Dedue was pulled into a conversation about cooking, and Dimitri couldn’t help but feel his eyebrows hit his hairline. The interaction was so… natural. Dedue had _ friends. _ In fact, it was almost a slap to the face as he realized the stark difference as Dedue gave a tiny smile at something Ashe said. It was subtle, something only Dimitri probably noticed, but… It was good. It was nice. He’d never seen Dedue with a friend. Not just _ a _ friend now, he had a cluster of people around him.

In the few days he’d been at the academy before school began, the dining hall had been clearly separated. Blue Lions at one table, Black Eagles at another, Golden Deer at another. They hadn’t mingled. Now he looked across the many groups of tables. There were no house tables anymore. He saw Ingrid sitting with Caspar and Raphael as they indulged in an eating contest. Ferdinand and Lorenz were discussing the pros and cons of various types of teas. Marianne, Ignatz, and Bernadetta were clustered together quietly discussing various topics about art and flowers. Sylvain and Dorothea were having an argument, though the light smile they shared made him think they were just arguing for fun. Even _ Felix _had found himself a group, piping in his own hunting opinions between Leonie and Petra.

His eyes darted to Claude and then to El. Claude’s head had sunk to lay against Dimitri’s shoulder as he joked with El. His tail had taken to curling around El’s waist. Dimitri had resolved to be more hands off with the other two, but… he couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t bring himself to disentangle from the others. 

Conversation came to a sudden halt, sharpening his focus in the present. Everyone was looking at him.

“...What?” 

Claude cracked first. “Pfff, you’re so adorable!”

Dimitri felt his face heat up. “What?”

Annette and Mercedes giggled to themselves. Ashe looked away, biting his lip. Hilda _ cooed _ for the Goddess’ sake!

Dedue cleared his throat. “Ah, it appears you are, er… purring, your highness. Rather loudly too.”

With sudden clarity Dimitri realized his earlier purring was now a thundering rumble. Goddess, he could _ feel _ the vibrations. “Uh,” he tried, as he failed to quiet himself in the slightest.

Claude reached up to pat his head, which Dimitri returned with a glare (thank the Goddess Claude only patted his head. He didn’t know _ what _ he would do if Claude started scratching his ears). Claude melted into Dimitri’s side before stiffening, pulling back a little as his eyes darted across the lunch table. 

El smirked. “That happy to have real food again, huh?”

“Um, sure. Y-yes! Haven’t had real food in, uh, awhile?” He cursed his inability to lie.

Annette gasped. “Wait! Did you guys not eat while, uh—”

“We were given food, we weren’t starved,” Dimitri replied.

Claude groaned. “I don’t think that _ mush _ could be described as food.”

El nodded. “It was only food in the loosest sense.”

“Oh, that’s horrible!” Mercedes clasped hands over her mouth. She traded a glance with the people she sat beside.

“I-it wasn’t that bad…” Dimitri tried. He was ignored as the ‘cooking club’— as he mentally dubbed the group— started whispering about various foods they could make to ‘make up for lost time’. It was kind, if entirely unnecessary. 

Claude rolled his eyes. “I’m starting to think you don’t have taste buds, buddy. That’s the only explanation for how you ate that stuff.”

Dimitri rolled his eyes, trying not to let the fact that Claude was spot-on show. He shoved a bite of the Sautéed Pheasant and Eggs into his mouth and gave Claude a pointed look.

Claude just laughed at him. “Y’know, this dish is one of my favs.” Claude took a big bite himself. “Mm, nothing quite… like…” Claude’s face scrunched up in disgust, his ears bolting upright. His hands scrabble for a side plate. He spat the half-chewed food onto the plate. “Gah! Something’s wrong with mine.” He glared at his plate like it personally offended him.

“What? It looks fine to me,” Hilda piped up, leaning over and snagging a bite off Claude’s plate.

“H-Hilda!” Claude hissed, “What if it’s poisoned!”

Hilda chewed thoughtfully, brow furrowing. She took another bite of her own. “Tastes the same as mine, which tastes the same as usual.”

“Oh!” El gasped, fork still in her mouth. She quickly took another bite, humming in appreciation. “Maybe it’s just because it’s been a long time, but this is delicious!” 

Claude poked at his meal. He brought a tiny bite up to his mouth and gagged. “Nope, nope. This is awful.”

“What about the rest of your food?” Dimitri asked.

Claude looked at the rest of his spread. A small cup of soup, three little pastries, and a bowl of greens. Hesitantly, he skewered one of the pastries on his fork and nibbled on it. He sighed in relief. “Alright, that tastes normal.” He finished it and turned to the bowl of greens next. Claude eyed it disfavorably. He returned to the little pastries and took another. “Maybe I’ll just be like Lysithea and live off of sweets from now on.”

“Hey!”

“Claude,” El rolled her eyes as she took another bite of pheasant, “don’t be a baby and eat your greens.”

Claude acted like the petulant child he was and stuck out his tongue. “You first!”

Edelgard shook her head, spearing a bundle of greens on her fork. “Unlike you Claude, I know the value behind a nice bowl of— ngk!” El’s face split into disgusted surprise, her eyes going wide. Dimitri felt his eyebrows shoot up as he watched El’s face scrunch up in the most expressive display of unexpected disgust he had ever seen. Her wings even puffed up for a moment.

“‘Don’t be a baby and eat your greens,’” Claude mocked in a high pitched voice.

“Lady Edelgard, are you alright?” Hubert asked, leaning across the table.

She waved a hand. “I’m fine, just…” She eyed the bowl of greens with distrust. “It tastes wrong.”

Much like Hilda had, Hubert took a bite of hers. He shook his head. “I cannot detect anything different.”

Dimitri heard a munch to his right. “Okay, what the fuck…” Claude whispered. Turning back to him, Claude still had his fork in his mouth, eyes wide as dinner plates looking down at his bowl of greens.

“Is it bad too?”

Claude shook his head negative. He continued to stare at the bowl of greens. “No, it’s… it’s good. Really good. Like… really _ really _ good.”

There was a moment of silence.

Then Claude slammed his face into the lunch table. “It’s not fair!” Claude all but wailed into the wood.

“What? What is it?!” Dimitri’s hands hovered by Claude, not sure what to do.

Claude mumbled something into the table.

“Speak up, Claude!”

Claude wrenched his head back up and whined. “Deers are herbivores!”

“...Oh,” El mumbled. “I suppose I’m a carnivore now, then?”

In eerie unison, they both turned to look at him. Claude gestured to the bowl of greens. “Well?”

The pheasant hadn’t tasted different (it hadn’t tasted at all), so he doubted the greens would either. Still, he took a bite, thoughtfully chewed, and swallowed. He shrugged. “It’s fine?”

El and Claude shared a look. “Unbelievable,” Claude muttered.

Dimitri huffed, taking another bite. Whether he could taste it or not, he was still hungry. With an overdramatic heart, Claude swapped his Pheasant for El’s bowl of greens. She refused to hand over her pastries, which Claude pouted (rather cutely) about.

Dimitri munched on his own bowl of vegetables, trying to hide his amusement towards Claude. Dimitri grunted as his too-sharp teeth bit into the side of his tongue.

Two questioning looks met him, and he looked away.

“You good?” Claude asked.

Dimitri nodded.

Claude hummed. “You sure…?”

Dimitri nodded again. He swallowed a mouthful of blood, wincing

Dedue met his eyes. “Your highness? Are you in pain?”

Dimitri waved a hand, shaking his head.

“Then why are you suddenly not speaking?” El teased him, her eyes knowing.

Dimitri shrugged.

“You bit your tongue again, didn’t you.”

Dimitri pretended not to hear her.

Claude sighed. “Honestly, what are we going to do with you,” he rolled his eyes.

Dimitri glared at Claude. Then glared at El for good measure too.

“Don’t listen to them Dimitri,” Hilda said, “we’ve all bitten our tongues before. It’s no biggie!”

“Oh! Would you like me to heal you?” Mercedes asked.

Dimitri peered down at his meal, still hungry. He swallowed another mouthful of blood, and nodded.

Hubert huffed. “A bit overkill, no? A full heal spell, for only a tiny wound?”

Mercedes leaned across the table. “Okay, open up! I’ll be real quick about it, so don’t worry.” She flashed him a kind smile.

He hesitated, his eyes straying to the side as he fought back his embarrassment.

Mercedes' patient smile won out. He closed his eyes, not wanting to see her face, and opened his jaw.

He felt a few drops of blood splash onto the table as his tongue lolled out. He heard multiple intakes of breath. Mercedes was silent though, her wash of healing magic swiftly running through him.

“All done!” Mercedes cheerful voice informed him. Closing his mouth, he found no more blood gushing. He opened his eyes to Mercedes’ soft expression, bright smile still in place. He felt his shoulders relax.

“Gosh, those are some real pointy teeth…” Ashe gasped.

“They’re certainly sharp,” Hilda agreed. “Wowza, that was a lot of blood from just biting your tongue!”

“Urgh, please don’t remind me…” Linhardt mumbled.

At least no one was calling him a monster.

* * *

He stared at the blank page, quill in his hand still hovering above the inkpot.

He shifted his haunches. He would need to request a bench or something in the morning. His old desk chair no longer fit him. Instead he just sat on the floor of his room with his soft yellow quilt acting as a cushion. He had fashioned an improvised table on the ground out of the many books he had around his room. The librarian would probably eviscerate him if he knew, but oh well.

The act of setting up his new writing spot had only been a distraction, and he knew it.

He groaned, resting the quill back in the inkpot and leaning his head on his hand. Did he really need to write the letter?

… Yes, he did. They would find out eventually. Claude planned to go home someday, even if that day felt so far away. He needed to send a letter to his parents.

News traveled slowly outside of Fódlan, but it still traveled. Even if he didn’t send a letter, rumors of what he was would trickle back home. He doubted anyone would believe the rumors, but still.

...Then again, Fódlan was _ weird, _ so maybe people would believe the rumors. 

He sighed, picking his quill back up. 

_ ‘Dear mother and father,’ _ he began in the neat Almyran script he hadn’t used for nearly a year. This would be the first letter he sent home since… well, since he left. What was he supposed to write? 

_ ‘I hope you are both doing well.’ _ A drop of ink blotted the page as his quill hovered while he was trying to think of what to say next. He grimaced, shaking his head. As much as he wanted to sugar coat his letter, he knew he couldn’t. 

He chewed on the end of his quill, debating whether he should write the next part. He hadn’t discussed the matter with Edelgard or Dimitri, but… _ ‘I have two bond-siblings. I hope there will come a day you can meet them.’ _ He wasn’t sure if either Edelgard or Dimitri would understand the significance if Claude told them. As far as he could tell, there was no real equivalent in the language of Fódlan. The literal translation was something more like ‘Siblings bound beyond blood’. Maybe it was rash for him to go so far to claim them his bond-siblings after such a short period of time, but it felt _ right. _

_ ‘Despite recent circumstances, I still remain heir to Riegan. Beyond that, the Church backs me without hesitation.’ _He couldn’t let them think he’d gone weak since he’d come to Fódlan. The last thing he wanted was for them to think he was weak.

<strike> _ ‘Fódlan isn’t what I thought it would be.’ _ </strike>

<strike> _ ‘Fódlan is no better than home.’ _ </strike>

<strike> _ ‘I have one year to prevent all of Fódlan going to war.’ _ </strike>

<strike> ‘I don’t know what to do.’ </strike>

<strike> ‘I’m afraid.’ </strike>

<strike> ‘I miss you.’ </strike>

He crumpled the paper and threw it at the wall. He started over.

_ ‘Dear mother and father, _

_ ‘I trust things are well? I was confirmed as heir to Riegan a few weeks ago. Fódlan is not what I expected. Mom, I see why you left. The politics are as inane as they are insane. Despite Fódlan’s weirdness, I have good news! I have two bond-siblings. I hope you will meet them someday. Beyond that, I have been granted significant political power recently. I’ve made quite a name for myself here.’ _

_ ‘I’m not sure how to write this next part. I’m sure just getting a letter from me is enough to cause worry. I wish I could say I finally remembered to write and that this letter is filled with mundane updates, but that is not the case. I know you will eventually hear rumors of the Prince of Faerghus who now resembles a great lion, or the Princess of Adrestia who has great twin wings spread from her back. You will eventually hear rumors of the Alliance heir who is said to be the incarnation of the Golden Deer of legends.’ _

_ ‘Two weeks ago, myself and two others were captured by a dark wizard. I won’t go into the details, but this man was good at keeping us hidden and even better at his magic experiments. I should have suffered a fate worse than death. I nearly did. _ <strike> _ I should have frozen to death, or bled out, or been mangled beyond recognition, or been left to wither into nothingness. _ </strike> _ We were experimented on daily.’ _

_ <strike>‘I held my bond-sister as her back split open with wings. My bond-brother bled as claws grew from his hands. Antlers sprouted from my skull. I lost my legs at one point. He replaced them with legs of a deer. We were mutilated.</strike> I’ve been made less than human.’ _

_ ‘The three of us escaped, and the wizard that experimented on us is dead. The church backs us, so we have no fear of being hunted as monsters. The Alliance sees my physical alterations as an old legend reborn.’ _

_ ‘I just thought I should let you two know. Wanted you to hear it from me. Guess I’ll never be able to take the Wyvern rite of passage, sorry dad.’ _

_ ‘I’ve kept my promise. No one knows about my heritage or your location.’ _

<strike> _ ‘I hope you won’t think less of me.’ _ </strike>

_ Love, your son, _

_ Claude. _

He stared at the finished letter. He hadn’t planned on giving them any details beyond the basics, but the words had just poured from his quill. He didn’t want them to worry, though no matter what he wrote he knew they would. He knew they would still be able to read the words he tried to cross out. He should write it again.

What would his father think? Would he think Claude was weak for being captured in the first place? 

What would his mother think? Would she regret ever introducing Claude to Fódlan?

He was tempted to only send the good news. He could tag on a _ ‘also due to a magical mishap I’m part deer now,’ _ at the bottom and call it good. But… he wasn’t good at lying to himself. He wanted to spill his guts to someone he could trust, even if only through letter. He _ missed _ his parents. He wanted them to tell him it would all be _ okay _ and that none of it mattered. He felt like he was five again, sniffling in his mother’s arms as she whispered into his hair and rocked him to sleep. Like he was seven again, clung to his father’s safe arms as the healers reset his broken leg. Like he was twelve again, unable to hide the long acid burns that scalded down his back as his mother went on a righteous rampage to find the perpetrator. Like he was fourteen again, only barely holding himself back from running to his father to chase away the daggers in the dark.

He wanted them to tell him they still loved him, no matter what.

He sighed. He needed to send _ something. _ Might as well be this. He set the letter aside. He'd send it in the morning.

He groaned, flopping onto his side. He should probably get into his bed. 

He remained on the floor. He shivered. He pulled a blanket off his bed, curling it around him. He still shivered.

He was _ exhausted. _ It had been a long day. He hadn’t gotten good sleep the night before either (or before that, or before that…). His ears kept pivoting, one forward while the other was backwards, then switching. Over and over. He could hear the sounds of breathing from rooms to his side and below him. He could hear the lazy breeze that murmured along the outside of the building. He could hear rhythmic tap tap tapping of something moving.

He wanted to sleep, to sink into his bed and drift off into sleep. Instead every time his eyes slid closed, he jerked his head back up as an inane sound triggered a moment of panic, over and over and over again. He was so tired. He wanted to sleep. He wanted El and Mitri.

_ He wanted El and Mitri. _ He felt cold and alone and exposed and wary and like two black eyes were watching him. He wasn’t safe, _ he wasn’t safe. _

_ And maybe, just maybe he was afraid. Afraid of sleeping. Afraid he would wake up and he’d be even less human than before. That he would wake up without hands this time, or with a snout, or fur covering his entire body. What if he woke up entirely a deer? What if he lost the ability to speak? _

He buried his face under his blanket, trying to hide from his fears. He _ needed _ to get over this. What was he, a damned _ child?! _ Both Edelgard and Dimitri were clearly able to handle this on their own! He’d heard Edelgard and Hubert speaking together earlier in the night, though too far away to make out the words. There was only silence now.

His ears twitched, picking up a new noise. He strained his hearing. There was a scraping sound. Over and over, like something scratching against wood.

…

Was that Dimitri?

He tried to pinpoint the sound as best he could. It _ could _ be coming from Dimitri’s room. 

He’d better check.

Just in case.

He gingerly opened his door. He tiptoed down the hall as quietly as his hooves allowed. Which was to say: he needed socks, his hooves were not quiet. They weren’t loud like he was walking on stone at least. 

He knocked on Dimitri’s door as gently as he could. He barely even tapped the wood. He knew Dimitri, like him, had better hearing than before. Sure enough, the sound of scratching abruptly stopped. Silence.

“...Dimitri?” Claude whispered.

There was a scramble, then the door opened a crack. Dimitri’s eyes shone like a cat’s in the darkness. “Claude?” Dimitri rasped.

“Uh… I heard scratching?”

Dimitri grunted. “Can’t sleep. Bed’s too small now.”

Claude cocked his head, wincing as his antlers knocked into the wall. He rubbed his head, annoyed at himself. “Your bed’s too small?”

Dimitri opened the door further and gestured to his bed. It was the standard sized bed. He noted a long divot that have been clawed into the wood floor.

“You can use mine. It’s bigger.” the offer left his mouth before he even thought about it. He tried to tamp down his anticipation.

Dimitri frowned. “Your bed is bigger?”

“Yup. C’mon, I’ll show you.”

Dimitri padded behind Claude, carrying a bundle of blankets and a pillow. Claude felt a tinge of jealousy at the way Dimitri’s feet (paws?) strode silently.

Claude welcomed Dimitri into his room. It wasn’t until Dimitri gave the room a long onceover that Claude realized he had _ invited someone into his room. _ He _ never _ trusted people into his space. Yet he had invited Dimitri in without a second thought. Well, if it was going to be anyone...

“...Why do you get a big bed?” Dimitri grumbled, pouting. Dimitri examined the bed, sniffing around it before he rubbed his face against the bedpost. That probably meant he approved of the bed? Then he marched back to the door.

Claude tried to smother his flair of panic. “Where ya going?”

Dimitri stuttered his step, pausing. “Oh… I was going to get El,” he sheepishly mumbled. “I guess she’s probably already asleep though…” 

Claude couldn’t help the churn in his gut at the feeling of leaving Edelgard out. “We’ll knock on her door. Might as well ask, right?”

Dimitri nodded, and they headed out into the hall again. One soft knock later and they were treated to an instant “Come in.” Clearly she hadn’t been asleep.

Edelgard was tucked into the corner of her room, her wings wrapped tightly around her. She sighed and relaxed as the door fully opened. “Can’t sleep either?” she whispered with a wry twist to her lips.

Claude eyed her bed, same size as Dimitri. “Sleepover in my room, you’re invited?”

Edelgard huffed a small laugh. “Can’t say I’ve ever been invited to a sleepover before. I suppose I’ll have to accept.” She collected her blankets and pillow.

She paused in his doorway. “You live like this?” Edelgard very pointedly looked at the books and various supplies he had strewn about his room.

Claude shrugged, smirking. “It’s the life of a royal, what can I say?” His eyes were drawn to the dark circles under her eyes. Her pale skin only accentuated how tired she looked. Dimitri was the same, looking dead on his feet.

Maybe it was because he was just that tired, but between one heavy blink and the next he was bundled together on his bed in blankets and feathers and blessed _ warmth. _

  
  


* * *

  
  


_ He is restrained to a table. He struggles but can’t move. The black crow mask seems to twist into a smile before his eyes. Cackling fills the room, fills his ears with painful static. _

_ “Let’s continue where we left off, shall we?” _

_ He tries to thrash, tries to move, tries anything. The man laughs and laughs. He brings down a needle. The room goes black. _

_ He is back in the cell. Dimitri and Edelgard are gone. He’s alone. He tries to stand but his legs won’t work. He can’t move. He crawls to the door. He tries to pound on it, but no sound comes from his fist connecting with the door. Silence. Silence. _

_ The darkness slithers around him. He tries to run away but his legs still won’t work. The darkness nips at his feet, crawling up to his thighs. He tries to tear the black mass away, but instead it clings to his hands like tar. It oozes further up his body. It claims his hips and his arms, his torso and his shoulders. He chokes as it curls up to his throat, desperately trying to keep his head above the rising tide. The darkness fills his mouth, swallowing his whimpers as it drowns him. _

_ Then it swallows his eyes. _

_ He is back in the cell. Dimitri and Edelgard are gone. He’s alone. He tries to stand but his legs won’t work. He can’t move. He crawls to the door. He tries to pound on it, a thin veil of hope rising through him as the sound reverberates. The sound is so loud. It burns his ears and he fears they will bleed. He keeps pounding, desperately hoping someone will hear him. _

_ The door creaks open. Dim light spills into the cell. ‘Mom! Dad!’ He tries to yell, but the words won’t leave his throat. He scrambles to his feet, struggling to find his balance on four legs. He takes a step towards his parents, but freezes as he watches his father pull out a bow. _

_ “Who locks up a deer?” His mother murmurs, head cocked to the side as she examines him with cold eyes. _

_ ‘It’s me! Claude, your son!’ he tries to scream, but all that comes out is an animal’s whine. He gasps as he realizes he can’t speak at all. _

_ “Who cares? Now we have dinner,” his father smiles. It’s the same smile he gives on a hunt just before he snipes his kill. He knocks an arrow and points it at Claude. _

_ ‘No! Don’t shoot! It’s me!’ Claude tries to force the words to form. All he chokes out is a whine. _

_ The arrow connects with his flank sending him tumbling back to the floor. He tries to crawl away as his parents advance, but he can’t crawl fast enough. _

_ A boot comes down on his chest. He wheezes as the pressure increases. He blinks up at the face of Lorenz. Behind Lorenz is Count Gloucester, the whole room filled with members from the round table. They sneer at him, looking down on him like he is less than dirt. _

_“Nothing but a filthy animal,” Lorenz sneers. “Who let this_ **thing** _in here, anyways?”_

_ “Ooh, those antlers will look nice on the wall,” Hilda comments from where she sits to the side, picking at her nails. He wrenches his head up and sees along the wall two familiar heads. Mounted on the wall are the heads of Dimitri and Edelgard. Under them were simply the words ‘Cat’ and ‘Bird’. There is an empty plaque next to them that reads ‘deer’. _

_ Judith slams his face into the floor. He stares down at the shiny floor, shiny enough that he can see his reflection. Brown fur and a snout. With a whine he struggles to look down at his stomach, tries to move his hands. He has no hands. All he sees is the chest of a deer. His chest. He shakes his head, desperately trying to deny what he is seeing. ‘I’m not a deer!’ he tries to yell, but instead it comes out as a bleat. _

_ “Been some time since I’ve had venison,” his mom says as she advances on him, knife in hand. _

Claude woke with a muffled shout. Two pairs of arms tightened around him.

“M-Mitri? Edel?” He gasped, trying to regain his bearings. A hand brushed through his hair.

He gave a shuddering breath, untangling his arms from around Dimitri and Edelgard. He brought them up to his face and nearly let out a sob at the feeling of his regular face. He did, much to his mortification, let out a sob. Tears were falling and he _ couldn’t stop them. _

He buried his nose into Dimitri’s mane as Edelgard whispered soothing noises. His mind continued to conjure images of his mother and father standing over him, unable to recognize him.

“Please,” he begged, his throat burning, “please don’t leave me alone.”

He didn't even remember falling back to sleep a few minutes later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ‘bond-sibling’ thing Claude mentions is something kinda headcanon, inspired by the Japanese version of the game. In English, post time-skip Claude refers to Byleth as ‘My Friends’, but in the Japanese version it’s more like ‘My Sibling’ (or perhaps more accurately ‘My Bro’ lol). If I remember right, he gives a heartwarming speech about how he and Byleth are connected deeper than blood, or smthn like that.
> 
> Claude: Haha we're all siblings under the goddess.  
Dimitri: Yes that's correct Claude, I'm glad you're paying more attention to proper church decorum.  
Claude: Yeah but we're *real* siblings now. Haha jk... unless?
> 
> No Edelgard pov this chapter, sorry Edelgard fans! ;_; I’m trying to keep it roughly even between the three, but in the end I just write the pov that best fits the section. Also, I just wanted to say that Claude isn’t the only one being adversely affected by all this trauma. He’s just the first to fall apart, and the one with the least experience dealing with this specific kind of trauma. Dimitri, king of ptsd and Edelgard, empress of repression will have their times coming soon.
> 
> Next chapter: Breakfast and Byleth


	4. If Edelgard eats chicken, is that cannibalism?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm retroactively adding the date to the start of each chapter. Originally I planned for this fic to be non-linear chunks about their time in the monastery. As it is now, I've got a whole calendar in my notes about when everything happens x_x
> 
> Thank you to everyone that leaves comments and kudos on this fic. Each and every one of you bring a smile to my face and gives me motivation to keep writing.

**Sunday, 4th of Harpstring Moon**

It was a swift pattern of knocks that woke Edelgard. She grunted and tightened her wings around Claude and Dimitri. She had no desire to wake up yet. Claude seemed to have the same idea, groaning and nuzzling closer.

Dimitri shifted and propped himself up. She opened a single eye to glare at him for moving (and by proxy moving her). His warm arms released her as he brought them above his head in a stretch, yawning. Despite his movements, she allowed herself a happy hum and a content smile. She ran a hand through Dimitri’s mane, enjoying the feel of his soft fur.

The same pattern of knocks rang out again, bringing her focus back from the haze of drifting off. It was a familiar pattern of knocks, the one Byleth used. Dimitri moved a hand to push aside one of her wings. She hissed as sunlight from the nearby window invaded her feathery cocoon of darkness. Claude agreed with her, grunting and pressing his face into Dimitri’s chest.

Their protests weren’t enough. “Come in,” Dimitri called out.

Edelgard was loathed to part her wings, but did so anyway to view the door. Edelgard blinked a few times as her eyes reluctantly adjusted to the light. She was confused, eyeing the piles of books and various mess along the floor. Then the yellow carpet reminded her that they were in Claude’s room and not her own.

Byleth stood in the doorway. “Want to get breakfast?”

“That sounds delightful,” Dimitri agreed. “Doesn’t it, Claude, El?”

Claude just groaned in response.

“Delightful. Yes,” Edelgard agreed, trying to blink the sleep from her eyes. Breakfast with Byleth  _ did _ sound nice… one of the only things that sounded nice enough to drag her out of the warm and comfortable bed. She frowned, glancing at the sunlight in the room. “What time is it?”

“Ten.”

Dimitri let out a hiss. She agreed. It was good that it was sunday. Any other day and they would have been very late for class. Her internal clock was still all sorts of messed up. When was the last time she  _ slept in _ of all things? She had work to do, things to accomplish, and— 

Actually, she didn’t. At least, not the same things as before. She had no work to do as the Flame Emperor, no work to do as the future heir to Adrestia, no work to do as a pawn of Those Who Slither. It was that realization more than anything that woke her up. She still had things to do of course. Beyond the schoolwork she needed to catch up with, she needed to plan her next moves now that she was technically allied with the church and not her Empire. She needed to be ready for Those Who Slither’s next move.

But in this moment… she was free to just exist.  _ And isn’t that just intoxicating? _ A moment for herself. When was the last time she had a moment for herself? Before being implanted with the Crest of Flames surely. The last time... the year she spent with Dimitri in Fhirdiad, surely. She couldn’t lie to herself: she had missed him. Was it any surprise that after all these years he could still inspire comfort in her?

Still, idleness was not for her. Though her previous path was unmoored, she still had her goals, her promises to her siblings. Still had things to do.

But maybe… maybe just for today she could have this. One day for herself. A day of rest and recovery.

She gave a languid stretch, rolling off of Dimitri’s chest and onto the actual bed. Claude grumbled and clutched at a few of her feathers. She was learning that he was not a morning person. Yet Byleth still stood at the doorway, patient as always. Edelgard withdrew her wings, shaking them behind her as best as she could. They were far too large to properly spread out within the room. The cold air replaced the trapped warmth her wings had kept in. Fighting back a shiver, she wrapped her wings around herself.

Claude groaned and wriggled closer to Dimitri (though considering he already lay atop Dimitri, that didn’t mean much more than bumping his antlers into Dimitri’s face). “Nooo, not fair… five more minutes…”

Dimitri patted Claude’s flank. “We’ve slept long enough,” he punctured this with a yawn. “Besides, we should—” Dimitri cut himself off with a quick intake of air and widening of eyes. “Dedue! I forgot to tell him!”

Edelgard mirrored Dimitri as she realized she hadn’t mentioned anything to Hubert. She cursed her carelessness. She felt sick at the thought of Hubert finding her room empty… Hubert must be tearing his hair out. 

Her guilt only compounded as she remembers their conversation from the night prior. Finally having a moment of privacy she was able to update him on her plans. He took time to mull the idea over before agreeing it was the best option to side with the church for now, in order to later tear it down from within. His demeanor had even brightened (as much as Hubert could be described as bright,) as she laid out her roadmap for the future to him. It was clear to her that he bore the brunt of guilt for her kidnapping, and by proxy the guilt of her loss of the throne. That she had such a solid contingency in place brought him relief. But as soon as she mentioned how much she’d told Dimitri and Claude...

_ “Lady Edelgard, you place too much trust in them. Do you really believe they won’t betray you the moment it benefits them? And should they learn that you ordered their deaths, what then?” _

She had lost her temper after that. A little. She knew Hubert meant well, knew he was only looking out for her. Paranoia was a key facet to Hubert’s personality. Of course he wouldn’t trust Dimitri or Claude. Dimitri, chivalrous and a known supporter of the Church. Claude, silvertongue and known for his scheming and untrustworthy ways. If Hubert  _ did _ trust them she would worry he had been replaced by a spy.

It didn’t stop the hurt she felt. His dismissal of her judgement. Did he truly think she would trust them without good reason? No, no. She knew he had a point, from his point of view. All he saw was his liege placing utmost trust in two other powerful individuals. Individuals that two weeks prior she wouldn’t have trusted enough to share tea with. Her sudden trust— her faith— must have been just as shocking as her physical changes.

Edelgard pushed her guilt away. Hubert knew she trusted Claude and Dimitri; if he hadn’t heard her leave her room the night prior, he surely would have checked Claude and Dimitri’s room before panicking. He would be fine.

Still, she resolved to apologize to him. Both for losing her temper and for not telling him where she went.

Claude peeled his face from where he had buried it in Dimitri’s shirt. He gave Dimitri a half-lidded glare. “Calm down Dimitri. If anyone was truly worried about you not being in your room, surely the entire monastery would be blazing with alarm. But all I hear from outside the window is the twittering of birds.”

Byleth nodded her head. “No alarms have been sounded.” Dimitri sighed and relaxed. “Though the Blue Lions have been searching for Dimitri.” Dimitri groaned and sunk his head back into the pillow.

“And what about Hilda? Guess she wasn’t worried about me.”

Byleth shook her head. “Still asleep.”

Claude snorted. “Yeah that sounds about right.” He shook his head, a few of her black feathers sticking out of his hair. She winced, realizing a good handful of her feathers had shed over the course of the night. Her wings were a mess with whatever the feather equivalent of bedhead was.

“Did anyone think to look under his bed?” A voice echoed from down the hall, two pairs of footsteps drawing closer. “I mean, I know he’s not a kid anymore, but remember when he was six? Hid under his bed for the whole day, the entire castle was in uproar.”

Dimitri groaned, burying his face in his hands. “It was  _ one time _ Sylvain…” he whispered.

Claude’s face lit up, sleepiness falling away as he snickered at Dimitri. Dimitri nudged him in the ribs with a halfhearted glare. Claude kept snickering.

“Don’t be stupid Sylvain, that was one time. His highness wouldn’t do that now.”

_ “Thank you, _ Ingrid.” Dimitri mumbled. 

“But I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to check… just in case,” Ingrid added, souring Dimitri’s face again.

“It’s not like he was kidnapped again. No signs of a struggle, and we both know his Highness wouldn’t go quietly. Maybe he found a cute girl to spend the night with. Or more likely just went out on a walk and lost track of time, like Dedue said.”

“You say that like Dedue isn’t the one panicking the most. Besides— oh, who’s that?”

Byleth turned to look down the hallway, giving a stiff wave.

“Byleth, right?” Sylvain called, still a ways down the hall and out of view. His footsteps jogged closer. “You’re the mercenary that saved Dimitri and the other two, right? Thanks for that by the way. Have you seen him?”

Byleth nodded and wordlessly pointed into the room.

Sylvain’s face peered into the room. “Oh.” Sylvain’s eyebrows rose, surprise on his face. Then he whistled. “Congrats on scoring, your Highness? I’m impressed, didn’t think you had it in you!” 

Dimitri’s cheeks turned red. “S-Sylvain!”

“I guess I owe you an apology for saying daggers are a stupid way to show a girl your affection.” Edelgard frowned at the nonsensical statement. His words tugged at an old buried memory, but before she could explore that further Ingrid caught up to Sylvain. Her face joined Sylvain’s, a similar expression of surprise washing over her.

Claude gave a jaunty wave, his most flirtatious smirk in place. “Morning!” Edelgard rolled her eyes and lightly smacked the back of his head with a wing.

“Y-your highness!” Ingrid stuttered, her eyes fixed at the window and purposefully not on any of them. “We were worried for you.”

“I’m very sorry. I didn’t consider… I should have told someone.”

“I knew where you were. It was obvious,” Byleth commented.

“I suppose we have slept in long enough,” Edelgard said, pulling her wings away from herself as she rose from the bed.

Sylvain nearly cracked his head against the wall in his haste to look away. It was a surprisingly gentleman-like action, though she assumed it might be self preservation from Dimitri.

Ingrid  _ did _ crack Sylvain’s head against the wall. “She’s fully clothed you pervert! Get your head out of the gutter.”

“Owww… Uh, I knew that!”

Claude stretched his four legs and settled them over Dimitri. “Oh no, I’m not decent!” Claude gave a fake cry, bringing a hand to his mouth in a mock gasp. “Oh dear! I can’t seem to find my pants!”

Dimitri buried his head in his hands.

  
  


* * *

  
  


The dining hall was mostly empty. A tension Dimitri hadn’t realized he held released at the lack of eyes on him. Other than the occasional sounds of movement from Hubert, who followed them covertly from a distance (Dimitri wouldn’t have been able to hear Edelgard’s retainer were it not for his enhanced hearing), it was a lovely morning. They unanimously agreed to eat in the courtyard and enjoy the weather. Dedue positioned himself at a distance, within eyesight but outside of hearing range.

Dedue. He still felt guilty about worrying his retainer. Dedue hadn’t blamed him, but Dedue never blamed him for anything. He resolved to sleep in his own room later that night. Just in case though… he had informed Dedue that he might be found in Claude’s room in the future. Just in case.

In truth he was beyond grateful that Claude had extended his invitation the night prior. Dimitri was doing his best not to be clingy. But it was  _ hard.  _ His ghosts dogged his every step as soon as Claude and El were out of sight. Last night, as soon as his door shut behind him they pounced, screaming and demanding. Madness was nothing new to him, but their cries had been so much more intense than usual. Demanding he take action  _ now, _ get their revenge  _ now now now. _ They screamed about how long they waited for Dimitri to avenge them, about how he was  _ wasting time.  _

It was true. He  _ was _ wasting time. He knew about Those Who Slither in the Dark, he knew that they were the reason so many people died. His ghosts urged him to race off into the night and  _ find _ them, make them  _ pay. _ But he didn’t know enough, didn’t know where their base was or any of their identities. Didn’t know where to even begin finding those wretched dastards. 

Beyond that… It would mean abandoning El. Abandoning Claude. If the ghosts were a fire that burned him from the outside, there was a new fire that burned him from within. The very thought of leaving El and Claude alone, the very thought of trusting their protection to anyone but himself— he couldn’t  _ stand it. _ Even the short periods of time they spent apart clawed inside his chest. He  _ needed _ to be there to protect them. Never mind the fact that they were both strong and far from helpless in their own rights. He knew this, but his mind only reminded him of El’s shrill screams as she was taken away, of Claude’s dead-eyed despair when he lost the use of his legs.

He refused to fail his loved ones again, not when he had  _ family _ in them for the first time in so long. He wouldn’t  _ allow _ them to become part of his ghostly following. 

He couldn’t wax poetic like Sylvain could, but holding El and Claude at night was like a balm to his soul. He couldn’t think of any other way to describe it. It soothed his demons, soothed his mind, soothed the ache he thought was permanent since the Tragedy. It felt right in a way nothing else even came close to.

He didn’t know  _ why, _ but whenever he was with Claude or El his ghosts were distant. Even now the specters were only barely visible as they stood in distant shadows, their chattering silent.

He shook his head, pushing the thoughts from his mind. He needed to keep himself anchored in the present. He took a deep whiff of breakfast. It smelled great, for all that he was unable to taste it. Along with the smell of breakfast came a familiar mingling of scents. He could smell the grass and the blooming flowers, could smell so much more than before. It was difficult to parse every smell from one another.

There was a specific scent that he knew wasn’t from the environment. It wasn’t like the other smells, and he cursed his inability to properly describe it in his mind. It was a mingle of sweat and sweetness and fur and bird and books and pine and flowers and musk and iron and unidentifiable spices and none of those things all at the same time. The smell gave him a sense of calmness, much like the smell of chamomile. He knew it was the smell of El and Claude, though where one scent ended and one began was something he still hadn’t figured out.

He looked back down at his food, trying to take his mind off the embarrassing thought of smelling his two friends. He was beginning to realize his appetite had increased quite a bit. Thankfully the chefs were more than willing to allow him two portions. El had done the same as she too seeming to have an increased appetite, despite how small she was. He noted that Byleth also requested two portions. He would have doubted her ability to eat that much if he hadn’t grown up around Ingrid.

El, in accordance with her previous dietary discovery, requested only meat. While meat wasn’t a common breakfast item, they were accommodated. The odd one out was Claude, who requested extra vegetables and fruit but still retained the meat portion of the meal.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” El gave Claude a skeptical look as he began to nibble at a strip of bacon.

“When have I ever had a bad idea?” He smirked, then gagged on the meat. He glared at the strip like it personally offended him. “This personally offends me,” he muttered.

“People won’t think less of you for not eating meat, Claude,” Dimitri tried to swipe the bacon away only to receive a swipe at his whiskers in return.

“It’s not about that,” Claude shook his head, choking down another bite of bacon. “I’ve still got the teeth of an omnivore. Is it just my taste buds that have changed? Is my stomach still equipped to eat meat? Better I find this out now, I figure.”

“Hm, you do make a good point…” El glanced at his plate of vegetables, grimacing. “You’ll have to let me know the results.”

Claude took another bite of bacon, his face scrunching up. “At least it’s salty…” he grumbled.

“Dimitri shouldn’t eat vegetables,” Byleth spoke up. She nodded down at the small portion of green on his plate.

“Huh? They don’t taste wrong though. They didn’t give me a stomach ache or anything of the like yesterday either.”

Byleth pointed to his mouth. “Those teeth are meant for meat, not greens.”

Dimitri huffed. They spent a few minutes debating the pros and cons between the four of them. Much to his embarrassment, he found himself beginning to purr again. The whole  _ ‘purring’ _ thing was getting on his nerves. He couldn’t control it in the slightest!

“D’aww, I’m having a good time too Dimitri,” Claude cooed. Dimitri gave him a halfhearted glare. It would have been more effective if he wasn’t purring. Then he forgot any ire he had towards Claude as a hand buried into Dimitri’s hair, scratching at the base of his ears. He let out a quiet moan, sinking to rest his chin on the table as he arched into Claude’s hand.

Claude chuckled. “You still there buddy?” His voice was almost hesitant, his hands stalling.

“Mm, keep going and I won’t be annoyed with you.”

Claude shrugged and went back to scratching his ears. Dimitri gave a loud chuff, nuzzling closer to Claude.

Claude’s heavenly hands jerked and stopped suddenly, the other boy letting out a surprised squeak.

“Should I not?” Byleth asked. Dimitri peeked open one of his eyes (when had he closed them?) Byleth leaned over the table and scratched behind one of Claude’s ears. Dimitri bubbled a laugh at Claude’s expression. His eyes were wide like a doe, only furthering the cute image by the smattering of white freckles across his face. His ears were rigidly upright but were quickly relaxing at Byleth’s touch, coming to droop as his eyelids fell half lidded.

“Just, uh, just surprised me.” Claude closed his eyes and nuzzled into Byleth’s hand.

Beside him El lost her battle to contain her laughter, joining him with her own small giggles. Claude’s ear that Byleth wasn’t scratching flicked in their direction, one eye opening to glare. Dimitri just laughed harder at the look— it was like being glared at by a fawn. Claude rolled an eye. “Mm, whatever.” He tilted his head closer to Byleth. “Worth it. You guys are just jealous.”

They were interrupted by a loud meow. All eyes shot to Dimitri, which he found rather offensive. He might be uncontrollably purring, but he had yet to meow even once. One of the monastery cats crashed onto their table, rubbing a fuzzy head against Byleth’s free hand.

Dimitri hissed. He leaned forward, bunching up his shoulder and looming over the little cat. The cat immediately whirled around to face him, crouching low and hissing back, ears flat and fur bristling. Dimitri snarled, parting his lips to display his fangs. Dimitri snatched Byleth’s free hand— the hand that the  _ tiny creten _ had rubbed all over— and ran his own cheek over her hand covering the disgusting scent the cat had left with his own. He maintained eye contact with the cat,  _ daring _ it to do something. The invading cat gave a final hiss, backing away before flying off the table in a dead sprint.

Dimitri was already halfway out of his seat to pursue the cat when El’s hand grabbed his wrist.

Dimitri blinked once, twice, and then a third time before his actions caught up with him. Heat pooled in his face. Claude broke and started wailing with laugher. Dimitri clasped his hands over his eyes and sunk down onto the table. At least his blasted purring finally stopped.

He couldn’t stay mad. A smile curled over his lips as he watched Claude throw back his head with laughter. El too was laughing behind her hands, and even Byleth looked amused in her expressionless way. He huffed a small laugh himself.

The good mood was cut short as a group of random students rounded the corner and made to enter the courtyard. Their conversation and steps faltered before they all ducked their heads in a hasty bow and fled back the way they came.

Dimitri sighed, feeling his mood plummet. He was used to people acting reverent towards him, what with being the prince of Faerghus, but this was beyond that. A glance at his companions proved they were of a similar mind. El’s face had fallen behind one of her masks, Claude’s smile gone stiff. 

Byleth frowned. “Why do people act like that around you three?”

“No one likes people that are different from them. Uncertainty, fear, jealousy— there are a lot of reasons.” Claude rested his cheek on his hand, disingenuous smile curving his lips. “We’d probably have angry mobs after us if it weren’t for Rhea’s big proclamation.”

“Surely you exaggerate…” Dimitri disagreed, though his words were too hesitant to convince even himself.

Claude shook his head. “We’re things out of a storybook. People don’t know how to react, so easiest to just avoid us. Avoiding us is better than the way some people prostrate at our feet.” He sighed. “It’s a good thing, really,” the sour tilt to his smile told a different story. “Better that they don’t think us monsters.”

El shook her head. “This  _ worship _ will die down after a few days. Out of all the students in the monastery, the three of us have the most experience dealing with people groveling at our feet.”

Dimitri begrudgingly nodded. “Even Dedue still refuses to call me anything beyond my title, and much of my class is no better. This behavior isn’t too far from that.”

Claude hung his head. “Every student from the Alliance thinks I’m the reincarnation of a legendary myth. That goes beyond being an important noble. Besides, unlike your prince and princessness, this kind of attention usually means I need to watch my back for daggers.”

El hummed. “That’s right, I suppose you’ve only been a noble for about a year now. I can’t imagine how different it must be…” The fact that he was from Almyra hung unsaid.

Dimitri frowned. “Shouldn’t reverence mean the opposite? I would expect your classmates would feel more inclined to protect you, not less.”

Claude huffed a mirthless laugh, shrugging. “You’re probably right, Dimitri. Logically I know my classmates won’t attack me. Probably. I never know with Lorenz. But any time someone scrapes a bow to me, I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Old habits die hard, I suppose.”

“...Old habits?”

A flash of alarm pasted across Claude’s face so quickly that Dimitri wondered if he had imagined it. “Ah, you know how it is,” he said flippantly, waving a hand.

“Is this… a cultural difference?” Dimitri hedged.

Claude nodded a little too quickly. “Yeah, yep. It’s nothing to worry about, just a little bit of extra vigilance. Something you need to practice more often, Dimitri. Do you know easily I could poison your food?” 

Dimitri gave a small glance down at his plate. Claude wasn’t wrong— without his sense of taste, Dimitri knew he was all too easy to poison. It wasn’t something he thought about much though. Who would poison him at Garreg Mach? Well, plenty of people maybe… Perhaps Claude’s paranoia had merit. 

Claude shifted his focus to Byleth, clearly done with the subject. “So how’s the monastery life been treating you?”

Byleth tilted her head and hummed. “It has been… different. I am a mercenary— I don’t stay in one place for long. The church is strange. I visited the library, but I still do not understand it.”

“Understand the church?” Dimitri asked for clarification.

“I do not understand any of it,” she corrected, slight frown on her face. “Praying, worship, faith, devoting one’s life to an invisible force. Though I read the books in the library, I keep offending people. I am uncertain as to how, though.”

“Religion is a very personal thing. No two people practice in the exact same way,” El said, nodding to the two beside her. “Even the three of us have very different ideas about religion.”

“I’m still reeling from Claude’s blasphemous prayer,” Dimitri murmured fondly.

“Hey, it worked didn’t it?” Claude grinned. “But it wasn’t the Goddess who saved us, it was Byleth. As far as I’m concerned, Byleth is the only one who deserves my prayers.” He winked.

“Claude, is that any way to speak about your  _ ‘mother’? _ I seem to recall you calling her ‘the real deal’,” El teased him.

Dimitri grinned too. “Yes, in fact I seem to recall you promising to pray at least once a week.”

Claude rolled his eyes. “Yeah, and that was only a couple of days ago. Hasn’t been a week yet.” He shrugged, spreading his hands. “But I  _ guess  _ I could pray now. Gotta prove I’m the favorite, right?”

“If you keep this up, I’m pretty sure you’ll be the least favorite,” Dimitri tried to scold Claude, but couldn’t keep the smile off his face.

“Just watch and learn Byleth, this is how  _ not _ to pray. AHEM!” Claude bowed his head and made a dramatic show of clasping his hands together. “Ah-hem!... Sup mom, the mom that is in the sky watching my every move, and not the mom that once beat up my training instructor. So, the archbishop said you officially signed the adoption papers! Congratulations on two sons and a daughter— no take backs, you’re stuck with us. Anyways I’m just being a good son and praying weekly, just like I said. Thanks again for making me the most attractive out of my siblings. Talk to you next week, bye!”

Dimitri threw back his head and laughed. He heard El do the same. “Claude, the Goddess must hate you.”

Byleth was, as ever, unphased. She looked slightly confused, but also slightly amused if he read her emotions correctly. She was hard to read. Her eyes flickered away for a moment. “Not hate. I think she finds you entertaining.”

Claude beamed. “The highest of complements!”

Byleth looked down at her tea for a moment, shifting. Her face didn’t change in the slightest, but Dimitri couldn’t help but think she looked self-conscious, or maybe hesitant. “I have a question… I tried to ask a monk yesterday, but he only yelled at me.”

“We’ll be happy to answer if we can,” El said with a surprising amount of eagerness. Dimitri was beginning to see a pattern— El seemed to put in a lot of effort to please Byleth...

Dimitri nodded. “We won’t yell at you. Your question can’t be any more offensive that what Claude says daily.”

“Hey! I mean, you’re not wrong, but still.”

Byleth nodded. “This is the Church of Seiros, so that means the Goddess is Seiros, yes? Who was Saint Seiros, then?”

“Ah, not quite. Saint Seiros is said to have been someone sent by the Goddess, but she was just the one to found the church. It’s actually taboo to speak the name of the Goddess without good reason.”

“Oh, I see,” Byleth murmured. “I have another question. Who is Sothis? What does it mean to be a ‘Child of Sothis’?”

Dimitri winced at the callous mention of the Goddess’s name. “That’s the name of the Goddess.”

El launched into a summarized version of what the epithet of being a ‘Child of Sothis’ meant, but Dimitri couldn’t help but think Byleth was distracted. Her eyes sometimes drifted and at times she paused as if listening to someone else. Just a quirk, probably. They continued their conversation for a bit longer, answering the simple questions Byleth had. Some of the things she asked were… well, to him they were common knowledge. Things he couldn’t remember _ not _ knowing. Apparently Byleth managed to live her entire life dodging all knowledge of the church. Somehow.

They were interrupted (thankfully not while talking about anything blasphemous) by a young girl with bright green hair. She poked her head into the courtyard. Instead of backing out like everyone else however, her face lit up in a grin and she approached them instead.

Dimitri thought the girl looked familiar. The hair was a dead give away, given the uniqueness of it. It struck him as odd the lack of hesitation she had. Since Rhea’s announcement, Mercedes had been the only one so far to not look at him as something strange in one fashion or another.

“Hello there!” The girl gushed, “I’m Flayn, Seteth’s little sister. He’s been looking for you three; he’s arranged for some craftspeople from the nearby town to come up to the monastery. A tailor, a cordwainer, a griffon falconer, and a farrier. He requests your presence as soon as you’re all available.”   


Dimitri grimaced. The tailor he understood. All three of them needed new clothes that would fit better— Edelgard most of all. She was still forced to deal with an improvised hole in the back of her uniform. A cordwainer on the other hand… He didn’t think he needed shoes, what with the thick padding on his feet. He wasn’t even sure if he  _ should  _ have them. He was getting better about not accidentally unleashing his claws, but it was still a common occurrence. He doubted any leather would last long on his feet, and that was only if the shoe could fit. His heel didn’t touch the ground anymore. Any attempt at making him shoes would require a lot of creativity.

“A farrier? As in… someone who shoes horses?” Claude asked with distaste.

Flayne nodded. “Indeed!”

Claude slipped his usual smile into place. “Right, sure. Well, guess we’re expected. Lead the way.”

She grinned and gestured for them to follow. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are a lot of places in this chapter I'm not happy with, but after a full week's delay I'm just putting it out there. This was actually twice as long originally, but I ended up splitting the chapters in two, both due to length and because I still have a bunch of editing and rewriting to do on the second half. So this one's a bit shorter, but I really didn't want to delay any longer. Next week's chapter will come out on time (potentially early, depending on a few factors)
> 
> Fun and useless fact of the day: the difference between a cobbler and a cornwainer is that cobblers primarily only repair shoes, while cornwainers make shoes from new leather. If a cobbler made a pair of shoes, it would be using old or recycled leather. Historically these two professions are not interchangeable. In modern day the word 'cornwainer' is mostly obsolete, as most people just use 'cobbler' or simply 'shoe-maker'.
> 
> Next chapter: Some upkeep, grooming, and a certain someone's father ;)


	5. Claude's bag of holding (also known as Claude's bed)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude: Dimitri what are you doing?  
Dimitri: *Maintains eyecontact*  
Claude: Dimitri...  
Dimitri: *slowly pushes glass of water off table*  
Claude: Dimitri! I was drinking that!  
Edelgard: You're both idiots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huzzah! Surprise early update! Enjoy!
> 
> Hey. Was no one going to tell me that it’s Fódlan and not Fódland? No? I’ve been wrong this e n t i re t i m e aaaaaaaa why did no one tell me

“No. Absolutely not,” Claude said to the farrier.

She met his stare tit for tat, arms crossed. The farrier— Percy, her name was Percy— raised an eyebrow. “I think you should reconsider, m’lord.”

“I’m fine. Wild deer don’t need horseshoes, so why should I?”

“Wild deer rarely walk on cobblestone and stone floors. You’ll break a leg if you keep slipping so often, not to mention the wear and tear your hooves will experience. M’lord.”

Claude broke eye contact first, looking away as he tried to keep the heat from his face. Slipping on the slick monastery floor had been just about the worst first impression possible. The fact that he had been unable to stand back up without making a fool of himself, and ended up being carried by Byleth the rest of the way, made it  _ the _ worst first impression.

_ At least the embarrassed flush from falling covered his flush from being held in Byleth’s strong arms. _

Percy was to be his personal farrier. Because  _ apparently  _ he needed one, according to Seteth. Currently he was scheduled to see her once a month for as long as he remained at Garreg Mach. Potentially longer. He liked the woman well enough, at least. In his short period of time with her he gleaned that she was pragmatic to a fault, stoic, and was a clear master of her craft. She hadn’t so much as batted an eye at him, seeming unperturbed that the body attached to the hooves she worked on talked back for once. She reminded him a bit of Judith, but maybe that was just because she didn’t tolerate his nonsense.

“Besides,” Percy continued, “I’d be daft to give you horseshoes. Horse hooves only have one digit— you have two. I’ll be giving you custom modified oxen shoes. Just smaller and thinner.”

“Oh sure, that makes it much better!” Claude threw his hands in the air. From across the room he met Edelgard’s gaze. She was having her measurements taken by the tailor— the man had insisted they go somewhere private, but all three of them had refused to be separated. She raised a single eyebrow at him. Silently judging him. Ugh.

Byleth’s hand came down to pat the curve of his back. “This is something you need to get done.”

He groaned. Byleth was right, Percy was right, he knew that. He  _ knew _ that. He could easily break his leg slipping one of these times. Would his leg heal like a human one, or like a deer leg? Most likely just like a deer leg. Which was like a horse's leg. Broken horse legs didn’t heal. When a horse broke its leg, the horse was put down. He probably wouldn’t be put down himself, but he’d be back to being a cripple.

He  _ also _ knew horses could be crippled if their shoes were put on incorrectly. Whether by incompetence or by malice, Percy could end his career and there was nothing he could do about it. He was forced to  _ trust _ her.

He hated trusting people.

“Fine. Fine! Great, just… whatever. Just don’t screw it up.”

“Nails, actually.”

“What?”

“I’d be daft to use screws for this. I’ll be using nails.”

Claude buried his face in his hands. The woman hadn’t even changed her expression. A bit like Byleth in that manner.

From there Percy began to measure his hooves. He hated having this stranger so close in his personal space. It was only Byleth’s soothing pets along his back that gave him comfort. Despite the nonchalant airs he managed to throw back on, like always Byleth could see right through him.

Then Percy went on to trim his hooves. If he trusted her in the slightest, he might have enjoyed the rhythmic filing. It would have been soothing if he wasn’t waiting for her to mess up. As it was, he just paid close attention to her instructions on how to care for his new hooves on his own. There was more to taking care of them than he realized.

Finally she finished with everything. As she packed up her materials, she asked for his thoughts on the materials for shoes. Wootz Steel was her recommendation. Lighter with decent traction, if less durable than Black-Sand Steel or Umbra Steel. Iron and Black-Sand Steel were out, on the fact that traction would still be an issue. Umbra Steel was too heavy for his build. Mithril or silver would also work, but they weren’t as light. He hated that even in their short time together, she had pinned his preference for speed.

She'd be back in a week to fit his hooves. He tried not to think about it.

He joined Dimitri with the cordwainer. The shoemaker was a jovial man, thick glasses and happily rambling on about his craft. Reminded him a bit of Ignatz, if only vaguely. Claude caught the tail end of a conversation about the merits of various different types of sandals. 

The man broke off in the middle of his sentence as Claude stepped beside Dimitri. The man flocked to him, causing Claude to stiffen. He was getting sick of people touching his hooves. He was about to tell the man that shoes wouldn’t be necessary, clearly, when the man started muttering.

“Hm, how many centimeters for the sole? Mm, can’t be too thick, but—” 

“Uh,” Claude tried.

The man lifted one of his hooves. Claude had to bite back the urge to kick out at the unexpected and unwelcome touch. “Need to talk with Percy. Might need thicker padding if she uses Umbra. Hm, black leather to blend in with the natural hoof color, or brown to blend in with the fur color? Or perhaps tan— or what of a yellow or golden color?”

“You do realize I don’t need shoes, right?”

“But what of beige? That would also look sharp— ah, apologies m’lord, what did you say?”

“I have hooves, I’m not going to need leather shoes.”

“Nonsense!” The man stood with a shout. “Why, I’ll convince you right here and now! My good lord, would you be willing to walk a few paces for me?”

“Uh, sure?” Claude shrugged, carefully walking a small circuit. His hooves clacked loudly in the otherwise silent room, the slippery floor threatening to tip him over again. He noted Dimitri’s close eye on him, his hands in front of him like he was prepared to catch Claude if he fell again. Claude wasn’t sure if he was touched or annoyed.

“Very good, very good!” The man cheered. Claude wondered if the cordwainer was mocking him for his earlier fall. The man presented Claude four leather things, almost like little bags. “I threw these together, so they’re only prototypes. Didn’t have any measurements to go off of, and can’t say I’ve ever made these before. But try them on, try them on!”

Claude realized he was holding a prototype for leather deer shoes. “But… why?”

“Just try, just try!”

Claude rolled his eyes, but complied. After fumbling with his hindlegs, he managed to fit the leather ‘shoes’ over his hooves with a little help from Dimitri. They fit loose, like little drawstring pouches.

“Now take another circuit and you’ll see!”

By the third step Claude was already grinning ear to ear.  _ Traction! _ It still wasn’t perfect, but suddenly he wasn’t slipping like the floor was covered in soap. Another bonus was the muffled thumps his hooves made— far quieter than the loud clanking they usually made.

Claude laughed. “Alright, alright. I’m sold!” This led to another annoying session of leg measurements, but with Dimitri and Byleth by his side he didn’t mind nearly so much. Besides, he had the promise of something to stop his stupid face faults. He’d still need the actual metal horseshoes for anything serious, but for daily life in the monastery these would be perfect.

Then was the tailor. Another person to get up close and personal. This went smoother. Color preferences (yellow and black, of course,) style preferences (baggy and loose. He knew Fódlan loved their tightly tailored clothes, but Claude couldn’t stand it,) and any extra requests. He made sure to request a few subtle pockets. 

Claude assumed he was done, but that was incorrect as the Griffon falconer approached them. Where Seteth had managed to find one of  _ those _ in Fódlan, now that was something Claude would love to know. He overheard snippets of the man teaching Edelgard how to trim her talons earlier, much like how Percy taught him to trim his own hooves.

Now the man approached them. He nodded to Edelgard. “She'll need outside help preening, won’t be able to reach on all of her feathers on her own."

The Griffon falconer nodded and faced Claude, Dimitri and Byleth. He proceeded to give them a demonstration on Edelgard’s wings, while also explaining the importance of the action. He smoothed the feathers and gave a display of how they should be lined up. Then he dipped a finger in pegasus-wing oil and ran a hand over the length of one of Edelgard’s feathers. ‘Zipping’ he called it. Considering she needed to do the same for  _ all _ of her feathers… yeah, it made sense that she would need help with it.

“Should you need a refresher on this, ask the Pegasus handlers. They should know how to do this as well.”

“I’ll send Hubert their way, then…” Edelgard murmured to herself.

The man pushed a bottle of wing oil into Dimitri’s hands. It was for a Pegasus, but they had to assume it would work for Edelgard too. Dimitri got a slight panicked look to his face before shoving the bottle off to Claude.

At Claude’s raised eyebrow, he explained. “I don’t think I have the, ah, finesse necessary to help El with this. I’m more likely to pull her feathers out.”

Claude couldn’t argue with that. Looks like he would be stuck on feather duty for the foreseeable future.

  
  


* * *

Claude was tired by the time they were finally done. It was nothing compared to corralling a room full of people that hated you, but still. He had enough being prodded for the day. But it would be nice to have a change of clothes that properly fit him again. It would only take a few days for the tailor to finish it all— the day couldn’t come soon enough.

The four of them were on their way to the dining hall when a man on a horse barreled past them at a full sprint.  _ What kind of madman goes that fast inside the monastery? _ He was given the opportunity to personally ask the man when the horse reared, coming to a halting stop and wheeling around. The lumbering giant of a man leapt from the back of his steed and charged towards them.

In what was becoming a familiar occurrence, Dimitri took point, bristling his fur and baring his claws. Edelgard flared her wings and pulled out a dagger. Claude spread his legs in a steady stance and lowered his neck. He had a moment of surreal self-reflection as he realized his instinctual reaction was to try and gore someone on his antlers. Huh.

It didn’t come down to that. Byleth stepped out in front of them. Not, as Claude first assumed, to defend them. Instead, she spread her arms wide as the large man wrapped her in the biggest running-hug Claude had ever seen. Despite the tender embrace, Byleth’s face remained as expressionless as always.

“Dammit kiddo, do you know how worried I was when I got your letter?” the man murmured into Byleth’s shoulder.

“I’m fine, papa,” she replied.  _ Oooh, so this was her mysterious father… _ “You got here fast.”

“Of course I did! You nearly gave your old man a heart attack. What possessed you to come  _ here _ of all places?”

Byleth nodded towards the three of them. The man turned to look at them, eyebrows shooting to his forehead.

“What the hell? What… what are those?”

Claude gave him a wave. “Puberty, you know. Does things to the body.”

“I escorted them here,” Byleth said.

“Kiddo, we’ve discussed this. Context, I need context.”

“They were in the mountain.”

“Goddess kid, that explains nothing. I’ve only got more questions now.”

“She saved our lives,” Edelgard tried to explain. “She rescued us.”

The man ran a hand down his face and gave a long suffering sigh. “Alright, let me start over.” He spoke slowly as if questioning a toddler. “Byleth, why did you come to the  _ church _ specifically? And why are you  _ still here?” _

“I was waiting for you,” she pouted (or rather, gave a tiny micro expression that hinted at a pout). “I came here because I escorted these three. I stayed to ensure their safety.”

“And what  _ are _ they?” The man burst, then winced. He turned to face them. “Er, no offense?”

“No offense taken, I ask myself the same question all the time,” Claude tried to defuse the situation.

“We’re students,” Dimitri replied in a stiff and terse manner, his eyes narrowed into slits.

“You’re… students. Riiiight.” The man raked his eyes over them, but oddly… It was different than the way everyone else looked at them. The man wasn’t looking at their inhuman parts specifically. His face was far more expressive than Byleth’s, for all that the man looked to be chiseled out of stone. Claude recognized the expression slowly dawning on his face: the cusp of a dreadful realization.  _ Curious. _ “I know I’ve been gone from the church for a long time now, but I’m pretty sure most students aren’t animals.” Byleth smacked his arm, but he continued. “And why do you three need my daughter to continue protecting you while in the church?” The muscles in his face twitched. “There’s no place safer,” there was a bitter twist to the words he clearly didn’t believe. There was a story in those four words, Claude was sure of it.

“... Of course, that may be so, but…” Dimitri trailed off.

“They didn’t  _ feel _ safe, so I stayed,” Byleth said. “You keep telling me feelings are important.”

The man grimaced. “I keep telling you  _ your _ feelings are important, actually.” He sighed, continuing to regard them. “Not safe, huh?” The man gave a casual look around. There was no one, not even Hubert or Dedue. His voice lowered to a hush. “Going out on a limb here, but… Is it Rhea, that has you on edge?”

Edelgard sucked in a breath. Claude couldn’t stop the way his eyes widened. Just who was this man? Before Edelgard, Claude hadn’t met anyone in Fódlan that distrusted the church. Yet this man seemed to breathe distrust for the place. Or perhaps just Rhea.

“Yeah, figures…” he murmured to himself. “I caught the tail end of some people talking about three new holy figures of Rhea’s on my way here. That’s you three, isn’t it.” It wasn’t a question.

“Lady Rhea made a grand proclamation about it and everything,” Claude said flippantly, careful to keep the sour notes from his voice. Nice and neutral.

“She barely even consulted us over it all,” Dimitri growled, ruining Claude’s attempt to obfuscate their stance on the matter.

The man closed his eyes, grimacing. “Sounds like her. Damn.  _ Damn. _ Damned hells By, what did you get yourself entangled in?” The question was rhetorical, whispered to himself. He looked away from them, away from Byleth. His gaze strayed to the nearby graveyard. “Damn, she just doesn’t know when to quit. I need a fucking drink.”

Byleth’s attention was focused on her father, her head tilted to the side. Claude exchanged looks with Dimitri and Edelgard. “That’s a pretty familiar way to refer to the Archbishop,” Claude commented. “And if Byleth’s gaps in knowledge about the church is any indication, you’ve been going out of your way to avoid the teachings of Seiros for some time.” He tapped his chin, thinking. “Hm, a spurned lover of the Archbishop, perhaps?” Claude was pretty sure that wasn’t the case, but it would explain a few things about Rhea’s behavior. Especially towards Byleth… 

The man’s face twisted into such a genuine display of disgust that Claude was forced to cross that idea off the list. “Fuck no! Did I mention that I need a drink? Because I really need a fucking drink now.”

Claude shrugged. “So that theory’s out. Are you related to the Archbishop then? No family resemblance, but that doesn’t mean much.”

Byleth’s father clenched his jaw. “You’re real nosy, you know that?”

Claude winked.  _ Interesting, that wasn’t a no… _ “What can I say? Dimitri might be the cat, but I’m the one with all the curiosity.”

The man huffed. He turned his attention back to Byleth, fully ignoring Claude. “Alright kiddo, we need to get back on the road. As soon as possible. Here, get on my horse and we’ll ride out of here before anyone’s the wiser.”

Claude held back a flinch as he realized that Byleth was about to leave them. He’d known she was probably going to leave as soon as her father came, but…  _ Gah, _ a part of him had foolishly hoped she’d stay. His mind raced with possible schemes that might keep her around.

Byleth shook her head. “I’m not leaving.” Treacherous hope bloomed in Claude’s chest.

The man’s face hardened. “Are you sure about that? This might be our only chance to back out.” Claude had  _ so many questions. _ Their only chance to back out? On second thought, perhaps Byleth’s father was a criminal if he feared being locked up. A heretic maybe? But that wouldn’t explain the familiar way he referred to Rhea with. Perhaps an old follower that had a break in faith?

Byleth shook her head again. “You can leave if you wish. I will see this job through until the end. I couldn’t leave them when I found them. I won’t now either.”

“This is not what I meant when I taught you it was important to  _ ‘see the job through until the end.'”  _ The man raised his eyes to the sky and let out a long sigh. “Of course, the first thing you ever have a big opinion on is this.” He shook his head, his voice lowered to a soft whisper. “How can I deny you that? You’re my everything kid. If you’re staying, so am I.” He gathered Byleth in another hug, this one careful and delicate. Pulling back, the man huffed. “My, is that a smile? So rare! I suppose you really haven’t left me with a choice.”

Whatever his story, it was obvious where the man’s priorities were. Claude wondered if there was anything Byleth’s father  _ wouldn’t _ do to ensure his daughter’s happiness. Claude was sure the man would happily burn the whole monastery to the ground if it meant Byleth’s safety.

“I’m overjoyed that you’ll be staying, Byleth,” Edelgard said as father and daughter broke apart.

“Indeed, Byleth… thank you.” Dimitri gave a small bow of his head.

“Things just wouldn’t be the same without you, By,” Claude smiled and winked.

“You three had better be worth my daughter’s attention…” the man growled. The effect was ruined as Byleth frowned, nudging him in the ribs and changing his grim face to one of minor pain.

“We shall endeavor to meet your expectations sir, whatever they may be,” Dimitri said, puffing up in that noble way of his. Claude wondered what Byleth’s father would do when he realized his daughter had managed to captivate the attention of a prince, princess, and duke-to-be all in one fell stroke. Somehow, Claude didn’t think he’d be as impressed as literally anyone else in his position would be.

The man gave them a long evaluating stare. “I probably shouldn’t say this, but… you three are clearly in deep with the Church. I’m going to give you some advice, advice I took too long to learn and paid for: don’t trust Rhea.”

Edelgard huffed. “My, that’s a rare opinion. We are of the same mind in that matter.”

“Yeah, I figured as much. Funny how wary you all are, despite the way Rhea’s been elevating your statuses as the best thing since the saints.” His tone said he found nothing funny about it. “Well, guess I’m off to see the archbishop. Always knew this day would come...” the man grumbled with the gravity of one going to their death. “Escort your old father, won’t you?”

Byleth nodded, and the two of them left.

  
  
  


* * *

“Claude, your room is a mess.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about Edel,” Claude said. He flopped on the bed, grunting as he pulled out a book from under him. “I call it ‘organized chaos’. It’s efficient!”

Dimitri sat at the unused chair at Claude’s desk. Scanning Claude’s room, he wasn’t sure where the ‘organized’ part came into being, but the chaos aspect was certainly true. In one corner was an assortment of glass vials, a mortar and pestle, and bundles of dried herbs that made his nose twinge if he got too close. There was what he assumed to be an incense burner. It wasn’t quite like any incense burner he had seen before, but he would bet his lance it was an Almyran thing. Claude hadn’t used it to Dimitri’s knowledge, but he could still smell it. He didn’t want to think about how potent the smell would be while it was in use. It did smell nice though. It smelled somewhat like Claude, or perhaps more accurately Claude smelled somewhat like incense.

“You could at least  _ try _ to keep the clutter to a minimum. How did you manage to make your room so messy in such a short period of time?” El was cleaning up a spilled crate of tongs and hammers in the corner of the room. Why did Claude have a crate of tongs and hammers? What possible scheme did he use them for? Dimitri wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

Claude pouted, hanging his head upside down off the bed, his antlers scraping along the carpet. “Hey, it’s my room. It can be as messy as I want it to be!”

“It’s unbecoming of someone in your position. If you can’t even keep your room clean, what does that say about the rest of your skills?”

“It’s not that I  _ can’t _ keep my room clean. I just don’t see why I should. I’m being efficient with my time management— I have more important things to do. The only reason your room’s clean is ‘cause you get Hubert to clean it.”

“That’s not true! I could easily keep my room clean without Hubert.”

Claude cracked a laugh. “Wait, he actually cleans your room for you? I was joking about that!”

El huffed. “It is as you said, I have more important things to do. What of it?”

“Oh I see how it is!”

Dimitri smiled to himself, letting their bickering wash over him. His attention drifted to Claude’s desk. He did have to agree with El, it was rather messy… There were a few sheets of notes, but Dimitri couldn’t make heads or tails of the handwriting. He held one sheet up to the light, squinting. He was mostly sure it was written in the language of Fódlan… Maybe? The font was tiny, the entire page covered in impeccable yet messy penmanship. Dimitri had to wonder if Claude had a special quill that allowed him to write so small, or if his penmanship was just that skilled.

“Reading my notes on authority training?”

Dimitri shook his head. “Not at all. What kind of handwriting is this? Can you even read what you’ve written?”

Claude made grabby-hands for the sheet, unwilling to get up from the bed. Passing the note, Claude looked it over. He cleared his throat and pitched his voice in an imitation of Hanneman’s. “Ahem.  _ ‘The art of commanding troops is as old as time immemorial. The ability to rally moral has been the deciding factor in many historical battles. The strength of one’s voice and charisma is— Mr. Kirsten! Are you paying attention? Wait, are you eating in class? Goddess, is that a full turkey breast? Where did you get that? No, that is too distracting. I do not allow eating during my lectures. No, I do not care what Alois said, right now  _ ** _I_ ** _ am the teacher. Throw that out right now. What, Miss Pinelli, please calm down. No, I am not advocating for wasting food, but—’ _ Eh, you guys get the picture.”

El peered at Claude’s sheet of notes. “Claude, did you write what Hanneman said verbatim?”

“Yup. You never know when someone’s words will come in handy.”

Dimitri was coming to appreciate Claude’s unique methods of doing things, but this baffled him. Dimitri had a hard enough time writing his own short notes without snapping his quill. “Why? Isn’t that more work?”

Claude shrugged. “Not really. It’s shorthand. Not too hard to mindlessly scribble whatever I hear onto parchment. A perfect note-taking system!”

Dimitri glanced at El, hoping he wasn’t the only one who thought Claude was insane. He was graced with an agreeing bewildered look. “Claude, that’s not how you’re supposed to take notes. They’re called ‘notes’ because you don’t write everything down.” El took the sheet of notes and scanned them. “This isn’t even shorthand! This is— I have no idea what this is or how you manage to write it, let alone translate it.”

Claude shrugged. “Well duh, of course it’s not the standard shorthand. It’s my own brand. What, you think I’m going to let just anyone read my notes?”

El gave him a deadpan stare. “Right, how could I forget. You’re the embodiment of paranoia. Of course you would encode your  _ academic school notes.” _

“Embodiment of  _ distrust, _ actually, but close enough. And I don’t encode them, I just write in a cipher.”

How Claude managed to be more paranoid than both him and El combined, Dimitri still couldn’t understand. He let Claude and El argue about the semantics between codes and ciphers. He looked back down at Claude’s desk. For someone who considered himself  _ the embodiment of distrust, _ he seemed to trust Dimitri and El a great deal. Claude was the sort of person to never let another soul into his personal room. Yet here they were, Claude giving no hint of discomfort at their presence in his space.

Claude didn’t even seem to mind as Dimitri visibly snooped around his desk. Sure, Dimitri had no bad intentions with it— he was just curious— but Dimitri couldn’t see Claude tolerating the behavior from anyone other than himself and El. It was a warm realization.

He opened one of the desk drawers. In the desk drawer in his own room, Dimitri kept spare quills, spare ink, and spare paper. He really shouldn’t have expected Claude’s to be the same as his. Still, it was a bit concerning to see a stash of bandages, gauze, and small towels. Opening another drawer he found it filled bottles and jars labeled in Claude’s shorthand. The last drawer had needles and thread, some candles, a few small knives, scissors and tweezers, and a pair of gloves. It was all medical supplies.

…Claude did realize the infirmary existed, right?

He shut the drawers. At least the books on top of Claude’s desk were normal, thankfully not written in his insanity-inducing handwriting. Dimitri didn’t want to even try to imagine what a book written by Claude would look like. The books were from the library. Dimitri felt a small pang of pity for the poor librarian. 

_ ‘The Building and Completion of Garreg Mach, circa 185 IY’, ‘Corruption of a King: Nemesis and his 140 years of rule’, ‘Reason Magic and Crests: Correlation or Coincidence?’,  _ and a particularly thick book titled  _ ‘A Brief History of the Church of Seiros’. _

He pushed one of the books to the edge of Claude’s desk. Claude glanced at him like he had a sixth sense for books.

“Dimitri, what are you doing?”

Dimitri shrugged, returning his attention back to the book. He pushed it a little further, letting it teeter on the edge of the desk. He figured he could nudge it a little further before the book fell. He tried to balance it and— 

_ Thump. _

Dimitri looked down at the book that now lay on the floor.

“I know my floor looks like a bookshelf, but it’s actually not.”

“You’re bed’s the real bookshelf. I woke up with a book spine trying to fuse with my own spine last night. If you’re planning to keep so many books in your room, you should—” A yawn cut him off. “Oh, excuse me.”

“It is getting rather late,” El murmured with a stretch.

“You guys are tired already? It’s barely even midnight!”

“Claude, this is exactly why you hate getting up in the morning.”

“Sorry, I went deaf for exactly seven seconds. Anyways, we can't go to bed yet.” Claude rolled over and reached under his blankets, fumbling around near the foot of the bed. He pulled out a hair comb and waved it around.

“Why was that in your bed?” Dimitri muttered. “What else have we been sleeping on top of?”

Claude waved his free hand. “Don’t worry about it.”

Dimitri worried about it.

At this rate, Dimitri wouldn’t be surprised if he laid down on a knife one of these nights. He stood up and moved to the bed. Claude cocked his head at Dimitri’s approach, usual cocky grin in place. Dimitri picked Claude up and set him on the floor, ignoring Claude’s indignant yelp.

“You can at least  _ pretend  _ like I weigh more than a loaf of bread when you pick me up!”

In response, Dimitri dumped their pile of blankets on top of Claude, smothering his complaints. A handful of books, at least three quills, and other assorted items tumbled to the floor. He removed the pillows and also dropped those on top of Claude (after a moment of consideration, he carefully wedged one in the crook of Claude’s antlers). He peeled off the bed sheets and shook them. A knife went flying. He shot Claude a glare.

“That was under my pillow, actually. It fell out when you moved them. Calm down.”

At least the sheets were clean, no food crumbs falling out as he feared. At least Claude had enough sense to not eat in bed. Then Dimitri noticed the feathers and fur now drifting in the air. Glancing back down at the sheets, a fair amount of fur clung to the cloth. Apparently the sheets hadn’t been as clean as he thought.

El sneezed. “I’m not sure which of you is shedding more, but if there’s this much fur after only a day of sleep we’ll need to do laundry often.”

Dimitri went to replace the sheets but paused. He considered the mattress. On a hunch, he lifted the mattress. And stared. He set the mattress back down. Then he turned to look expectantly at Claude. Claude had made himself comfortable in the mound of bedding. His head peeked out from the mass of blankets, pillow still lodged between his antlers. He looked up at Dimitri with wide too-innocent-to-actually-be-innocent eyes.

“Claude.”

“Yes Dimitri?”

“What am I looking at?”

“Well right now you’re looking at me.”

Dimitri pinched the brow of his nose. “Claude.  _ Why _ do you have a  _ battle axe _ hidden under your bed? And—” Dimitri lifted the mattress again, gesturing wildly at the objects lying on the wooden base of the bed frame. “And a bow? Is that a bullion?” At least the axe had a cover over the blade.

“Two bullions, actually. It’s called being prepared. Where else am I supposed to keep my secret weapon stash?”

Dimitri sighed. “Claude, you don’t  _ need _ a secret weapon stash. Do you really feel that unsafe here?”

Claude frowned. “No? It’s got nothing to do with Garreg Mach. It’s about being prepared. Just in case. What, you guys don’t have weapons hidden in your rooms?”

“Of course not!”

“I keep a dagger under my pillow,” El admitted, shaking her head. “But I don’t keep a ‘secret weapon stash’ like this.”

Dimitri dropped the mattress. He went back to airing out Claude’s sheets, ready to be done with Claude’s paranoia for the night.  _ Goddess, _ and Dimitri thought  _ he _ was paranoid…

_ What does Claude fear so much? _

After he almost ripped a corner of the bed sheet, he let El replace the bedding. Now that he was sure he wouldn’t be stabbed by Claude’s bed, he was more than ready for sleep. Claude, however, had other ideas.

Claude waved the hair comb he had pulled from the bed earlier. “Come on, I can’t be the only one to remember our ‘grooming’ instructions. You guys heard Edel’s falconer— most birds preen daily, sometimes more than once a day.”

El rolled her shoulders, shifting her wings at the mention. “It’s fine, we can do that in the morning.”

Claude rolled his eyes. “It’s been at least a week since you got your wings, and you haven’t groomed them once. I’m going to be real with you— your wings look like trash.”

“E-excuse me?”

“They do look rather disheveled…” Dimitri ventured.

El glared before sighing. “Yes, well… I suppose they are long overdue.”

Claude patted in front of him. “Take a seat.”

El reluctantly sat in front of him, awkwardly trying to find the best way to position her wings. Claude began deftly straightening out feathers. El shivered at the touch, Claude’s hands stopping. “This alright?”

El nodded. “Yes, just surprised me. It’s rather… soothing.”

Even though the process had been explained earlier that day, Dimitri was already lost as Claude slowly sorted through El’s feathers.

“Dimitri, come sit in front of me,” El commanded. She raised Claude’s hair comb. “Your hair and mane are a mess. If I’m to get my feathers fixed, I might as well do your hair too.”

A little hesitant, he did as she requested. He didn’t like people touching his hair, but he trusted El. His trust was put to the test as she began combing through the knots that had developed in his hair. He could tell she was being gentle, but it still hurt! 

“Wait a sec, I’ve got an idea,” Claude said. He tossed something onto Dimitri’s lap. A curry comb. “Percy gave me that earlier today. You can brush my fur while Edel’s doing your hair.”

“You just want someone to brush you,” Dimitri grumbled as El tugged through another knot.

Claude grinned. “Guilty as charged!”

Brushing Claude  _ was _ soothing though. It took his attention away from the tugs at his hair. Claude hummed, his ears tilting down as he relaxed. It was nice. Peaceful. 

After a few minutes of brushing he set the curry comb down. He took time to admire Claude’s fur, tracing a finger between Claude’s white spots. He tried connecting the dots into abstract shapes. It reminded him of constellations.

“This really is just like a sleepover,” Dimitri snorted. “Doing each other’s hair.”

“Is that what happens at sleepovers?” Claude asked, his words slow and groggy. He covered a yawn behind a hand.

“Mm.” Dimitri yawned himself. “Used to have them every couple of months. Sylvain’s hair was too short, so he did Felix’s hair. Felix did mine. I did Glenn’s. Glenn did Ingrid’s.” He huffed a small laugh at the memory. “Felix and Ingrid were the only ones to have nice hair after.”

He brought a hand through the soft fur, stroking down Claude’s spine.

“Mmmm, I’m gonna fall asleep if you keep that up,” Claude murmured.

Dimitri himself was feeling a pressing desire to curl up and sleep as well. El had finally sifted through most of the knots, her comb smoothly running through his hair. Her brushing at his scalp was making his eyelids heavy.

A glance at El had him snorting. She looked asleep already, eyes half lidded as she methodically ran the comb through his hair. Claude hadn’t finished preening her yet, but to be fair El had a lot of feathers. Her wings looked significantly better at this point.

Dimitri made the executive decision for all three of them. Another minute longer and he was certain he would fall asleep on the floor. He put El on his shoulder and tucked an arm under Claude’s belly, lifting them as he rose and laid onto the bed. He had the energy to shuffle a few blankets on top of them, and then his eyes fell shut… 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


_ He drifts. Soft sunlight spills out across the grassy field. He naps under a tree, his head resting on Dedue’s lap. El and Claude sit to his side, napping on each other. _

_ He feels like he is floating. His eyes are shut as he rests, but still he can see the lavender tulips blooming across the field.  _

_ Dedue strokes his head, and Dimitri wonders if this is peace. _

_ He drifts. _

_ He blinks his eyes open, not sure where he is. He remembers lavender fields and a grassy plain, but can’t remember where or when that was. The more he tries to remember, the more it slips from his grasp. _

_ The memory slips away, and he if left with a feeling of longing and an ache that he just forgot something important. _

_ He drifts, his eyes catching on the light ahead. _

_ Fire. _

_ Right, how did he forget? There is always fire. He can’t remember a time without fire. There has always been fire, and there always will be fire. _

_ Fire blazes. The tongues of heat lick at him but he is cold. Nothing can warm him, not anymore. _

_ He walks through the fire. He sees familiar sights: he sees Glenn, dead. He sees father, dead. He sees mother, dead. He sees Felix and Sylvain and Ingrid, dead. He sees the innocent of Duscur, dead. He sees Dedue, dead. The fire refuses to touch them, leaving their bloodied corpses pristine. _

_ Glenn’s hand reaches out to caress his cheek. Too gentle. He doesn’t deserve it. Glenn smiles at him. The flesh around his face is rotten, revealing rows upon rows of teeth. _

_ “You let me die,” Glenn hisses. _

_ “I know. I know I did, I’m sorry.” _

_ Father shambles behind him, his grasp tight and cold and painful as an icy hand grips around Dimitri’s neck. Father leans in close to whisper in his ear. “You failed me, son. Failed us all.” _

_ “I will avenge you. I will atone.” _

_ In front of him still, Glenn’s smile turns wicked. “You are letting our murders run free! Is that how you atone?!” _

_ “No, no. I will kill them for you, I promise!” _

_ “You are taking too long!” Father’s voice hisses in his ear. The sound echoes, too loud. _

_ Mother is crawling beside father, her hands grasping at his ankles. “Wretched child! You should have acted sooner! Look at what you’ve done!” _

_ Dimitri doesn’t want to look. His neck turns anyways. Mother points past the cold fires out beyond the piles of corpses and rivers of blood. He does not see what mother points at. His feet take steps forward on their own accord. Glenn limps by his side, father at his back, mother’s cackles only growing louder the further he walks from her. _

_ He walks through the fire. It parts before him, refusing to touch him. Refusing to warm him. _

_ He is so cold. _

_ He walks past the fire. He wants to stop, to crane his head behind him. The fire never stopped before. Why would it stop now? The whole world was on fire, but where he is now there is not a single flame. _

_ Glenn is gone. Father is gone. Mother is silent. _

_ He is alone. _

_ He stands in an empty plain. The grass is charred black and shimmering red. His feet move forward, ever forward. There is a small pile ahead of him. The only thing around. _

_ Finally his feet stop. He stands before the pile. Red and yellow, yellow and red. Legs and arms and fur and feathers. Wings and hooves. El. Claude. _

_ He stares down at where they lay. His thoughts are slow and sluggish. El. Claude. El. Claude. Why are they here? _

_ He kneels down beside them. He is so tired, a nap sounds nice. He runs a hand down El’s face, his breath catching as he pulls his hand back like her face burned him. _

_ Cold. She is cold. _

_ No. Please no. _

_ He reaches out again, his hands shaking. He lays a hand over her face then her neck. No pulse. Silence. He moves his hand to Claude. So so cold. Claude stares at him with blank eyes, staring past him. Those eyes so full of life are grey and milky now. _

_ He shakes his head, refusing to believe it. He gathers them in his arms and begs them to wake up. _

_ Claude begins to laugh. “Your fault,” he croaks, “all of this is your fault.” _

_ “We trusted you. You let us die. Why, Dimitri?” El asks him. _

_ “You can’t atone for this, Dimitri,” Claude tells him, his dead eyes gazing at the dark night sky. _

_ The dagger he gave El is in his hands. “I’ll kill them,” he promises. “I’ll kill them for you.” _

_ Claude laughs harder. “If you weren’t so slow, we never would have died in the first place.” Claude shakes him, El shakes him. They shake him and he rattles away. His skin falls off in chunks and his dried blood peels from his bones. He shakes and shakes until he is nothing left but bone and clutched dagger. _

  
  


He can feel warmth around him, his body quaking. He tried to tug his eyelids open but they stay stubbornly shut. Whispers whirl around him, hissing and buzzing in his ears. He feels the cold brush of air along his ear. Raspy breathing was all he could hear beyond the painful buzzing in his head.

There were murmurs layered above the buzz of his ghosts, something familiar.

The ghost did not speak as they continued to rasp at his ear. Their breath was so cold. It gurgled and choked. Was it Glenn? Father? Mother? Another ghost?

A cold hand came to rest on his arm. Almost gentle. The hand raked cold nails across his arm, drifting up to his shoulder, his collarbone, his neck. The freezing hand caressed his cheek. Then it wrapped around his neck, choking him.

He tried to struggle, tried to break free. The moment he tried to move, he realized he couldn’t. A heavy weight crushed his chest, weighing him down. His breathing felt labored and slow— not enough air.  _ He couldn’t breathe. _

He struggled, tried to move. A breathy laugh hissed by his ear.

_ “It’s what you deserve,” _ his ghost whispered.

He could see them. They lined alongside his bed. His ghosts stared at him, their judging eyes keeping him pinned to the mattress. Their ghostly visages was all he could see in the blackness of his room.

He could hear his name, distantly. He couldn’t move but his body still shook. Tendrils of warmth snaked up and down his body.

There were two new ghosts in the mass. They settled on top of him— Claude and El. Eyes blank. Dead. Their cold hands held him down even as he shook. They hissed his name, frantic murmurs. His fault. He let them die. His fault.

Shallow breath after shallow breath left him starved for air.

Then he smelled it. A familiar scent. Mixed spice and sweets, feathers and fur.  _ Claude and El. _

The dead didn’t smell. If they did, it was of rot and ash and blood.

Claude and El’s voices rose to a crescendo, their wordless wail so loud he feared his ears would bleed. He stared at their white eyes. Their blank eyes told him they were dead. Their cold touch told him they were dead. Their hushed accusations told him they were dead. But their scent… 

Like dragging a corpse, he dragged his eyes open. The blackness was replaced by the night-vision of his new eyesight. He was in Claude’s room, not his own. Two pairs of eyes looked down at him.  _ Alive _ eyes. Claude’s green eyes and El’s lavender ones glowed with life. They were shaking him awake, softly murmuring his name. He reached out a hand, scrabbling against their necks. Their skin was warm, a steady thump thump thump of a pulse beneath his fingers.

They stop shaking him, but he continued to tremble. There were no ghosts here. In Claude’s room, he was safe. He didn’t want to close his eyes. He didn’t even want to blink. He clutched them and pulled them tight (but not too tight, never too tight,  _ he can’t afford to hurt them). _ They are warm. He held onto that fact: they are warm, and the dead are cold. He breathes in, their mixed scents further grounding him.  _ The dead don’t smell, _ he repeats to himself. Not of books or flowers or fur or feathers or incense or spice or sweets. The dead don’t smell, but the living do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Claude: You really think *that's* my secret stash? Oh honey, you haven't even scratched the surface. You didn't even check my drawers for false bottoms! Call me back if you manage to find my booze stash. Or my knife stash. Or my poison stash. Or my heretical texts stash. Or my-  
Dimitri: Please stop. I want plausible deniability  
Edelgard: No let him finish
> 
> I spent at least an hour studying horseshoes. I kept chanting ‘it doesn’t matter’ to myself over and over, but I kept going anyway. I spent over half an hour trying to figure out if Boruim was a metal used historically in horseshoes, as it is a metal that helps improve traction. I still don’t know the answer. When was the first boruim horseshoe used? According to google, the answer is ‘watch this video on how to apply borium to a horseshoe’. Then I was looking into Pinstuds, weighing the pros and cons of each. Then it hit me. Duh. *This is Fire Emblem* where there’s all sorts of fantasy metals like Black-sand steel, Mithril, Wootz Steel, and Umbra Steel. None of these things have, as far as I can tell, much said about their composition. I can easily make something up!  
So in tribute to my time spent, have some fun horse-shoe related facts:
> 
> -Apparently plastic horseshoes are a common go-to thing nowadays. Good traction and reduced shock. Rubber is also used.  
-Google now thinks I own horses and is trying to sell me many horse-related products, please send help.
> 
> The bedroom scene was originally like 400 words long and was 100% about grooming. It’s now like 2k lol. When I was editing I decided I wasn’t happy with it and entirely reworked it. Now with 78% more fluff. ...which makes the nightmare scene that comes after even more heart wrenching haha. Woops. Sorry Dimitri, but PTSD waits for no man. Based the part after he 'wakes up' on a sleep paralysis episode I had a few nights ago. Anyone else ever had sleep paralysis? I get it every couple of weeks, it's super trippy. I get really realistic auditory and physical hallucinations. A lot of people find it scary, but after having it so often it's usually just eerie at worst for me. Sometimes it's even comfortable, kinda like a weighted blanket.
> 
> Oh and if anyone’s curious, my recurring sleep paralysis demon is a fuzzy blue snake that is also sometimes a cat. Usually just looks like a blue worm-on-a-string. I have affectionately named them Blue-Snake. They like to curl around my neck and sometimes lay on my sheets at my side. We have an understanding; so long as they don’t choke me I won’t try to fight them. It’s a good working system— I highly recommend taking the time to sitdown and talk with your demons, sometimes they just want simple things (like cuddles).
> 
> Next chapter: Surprise breakfast from an unwelcome source and more school


	6. How do you do, fellow mortals? Let us eat a normal human meal together.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a nice c: perfectly normal c: breakfast c: nothing strange c: at all c: c: c:

**Monday, 5th of Harpstring Moon**

  
  


A pair of unfamiliar footsteps came to a stop outside his door. Claude was awake and alert before he even realized why. Firm knocking was enough to answer why someone was outside his door.

He was beginning to get tired of being woken up. Did people think his door was an alarm clock? Peeking out from Edelgard’s wings, he took note of the faint light in the room. It couldn’t be much later than early dawn. They weren’t late for class, so  _ who was trying to wake them? _

“The door’s open,” Dimitri called, blinking sleep from his eyes.

“Sure, just invite some stranger into  _ my _ room,” Claude grumbled. He loathed the fact that none of the dorm room doors had locks. He had planned to jury rig something to his own door, but getting kidnapped had put those plans on hold. 

The door opened to reveal a stone-faced Seteth. The man stared at the pile of them, raising a single eyebrow. “...What exactly am I looking at?”

Edelgard parted her wings and rested them to the side.

“Might I ask why all three of you are in Mr. von Riegan’s room? The monastery has given you three much leeway due to your unique situation, but this is still against the rules.”

“Claude has the biggest bed!” Dimitri tried to defend them. “Er, that is… my bed no longer, ah, fits me.”

Seteth wasn’t impressed by the excuse. “You should have gone to the quartermaster then. And Miss von Hresvelg? Your excuse?”

“It must be a nesting instinct. I sleep better here— there’s no harm in it,” she said, not a single note of hesitation in something Claude was certain she came up with on the spot.

“Yeah Seteth, there’s no harm in it!” Claude chimed in.

Seteth pinched his brow. “No, this will not stand. The two of you will need to return to your own rooms. We have these regulations in place for a reason.”

Dimitri tensed, clutching Claude and Edelgard tighter. A common response from him, at this point.

“What, are you worried we’re doing  _ lewd _ things?” Claude asked with a smirk. From the way Seteth’s face pinched, Claude assumed that was his concern. “You’ve got nothing to worry about on that front. I’m sure you’ve noticed, but I’ve had some, ah,  _ equipment changes. _ How I’ll ever spawn heirs is a question I plan to avoid thinking about for, hm… indefinitely.”

Claude felt a spark of delight at the way Seteth’s face flipped, obviously not wanting to think about that detail. Still Seteth shook his head. “Ahem, that aside… It is still improper. Miss von Hresvelg and Mr. Blaiddyd do not have the same excuses.”

“But Seteth,” Dimitri began in a tone Claude was beginning to recognize as the ‘But I’m  _ oh so _ innocent!’ tone of his, “El and I are step-siblings. Surely you aren’t trying to imply…”

Claude was surprised. He hadn’t known that about the two of them… It struck him as odd, considering they hadn’t seemed close before all this went down. Then again, it did explain a few things. More questions he needed to ask later…

Claude decided this was the necessary point to unleash his new weapon to push Seteth over the edge. He pouted and lowered his ears, opening his eyes wide and focusing the full brunt of them on Seteth. He called this new technique: Doe Eyes. Too cute and too sad to resist. “Sometimes at night it’s hard to remember we’re back at Garreg Mach and not still locked up… It just doesn’t feel safe to be split up!”

It filled Claude with no end of delight that Seteth broke eye contact first.

Seteth threw up his hands. “And I suppose if I keep trying to insist you return to your rooms, you’ll ignore me anyways.”

“Yup!” Claude agreed.

Seteth grumbled something to himself. “What I am  _ supposed _ to be here to tell you three, is that Rhea has requested the three of you for tea in an hour.  _ Do not _ be late for breakfast with the Archbishop. That will be all.” Seteth shut their door.

“... Tea with the Archbishop? Wonderful.”

* * *

Rhea’s eyes were piercing. Disingenuous. Eyes of a viper, just waiting to strike.  _ She knew, _ Edelgard was certain. Rhea knew of their deception. Why else call them to a private area? What else would Rhea have to gain?

Rhea hosted them on the third floor on her own personal terrace. Edelgard had to admit, the view was breathtaking. The balcony they sat on overlooked the whole monastery, soft morning light giving the place a picturesque look.

“I appreciate you three taking the time to indulge me. I do hope we can have more mornings like this,” Rhea said as she sipped her tea, as though any of them had a choice in attending. Her smile was sweet like poisoned honey.

“Of course, Archbishop. We’re honored you asked for our presence,” Dimitri replied.

Rhea gave a small shake of her head. “Please, you may refer to me simply as Rhea while we are alone. It is my desire for your comfort.” Edelgard was  _ not _ comfortable in the slightest.

As loathed as she was to give Rhea any credit, it seemed the Archbishop really had thought ahead for their comfort. Instead of standard chairs and a table, they sat on thick and comfortable cushions. She found herself naturally tucking her legs under her in a way that would have been uncomfortable had her legs still been human. As it was, she realized how much more comfortable sitting like this was as opposed to in a chair that her knees no longer agreed with. Claude also appeared to sit more comfortably, but that was obvious. He loved to moan about how he couldn’t sit in chairs anymore, and how uncomfortable hardwood benches were. Dimitri sat normally, but happily sunk into the cushions as well.

The breakfast spread was also unexpected. She expected a small smattering of food like the dining hall— porridge, a few pastries and bread, some fruit, maybe some eggs. Perhaps some meat, if Rhea took their new diets into consideration.

The food laid out before them was not that. There  _ were _ many pastries and bread, but they weren’t the standard. Rolls and dumplings of various sorts, the bread twisted and curled into shapes she’d never seen before. Some were even braided together.

Same went for the fruit: apples, noa fruit, and plums were familiar breakfast fruits. Rarer were the Zanado Treasure fruit that sat in the middle of the arrangement. But there were a few things she didn’t recognize. Orbs too big and too red to be apples, the insides spilling with shiny red bead-like fruit. Slices of green melon. A string of little yellow grape-like things caught her eye. 

Even odder were the bowls of soup.  _ Who ate soup for breakfast? _ More accurately, the bowls were thick stew of some sort. And the ‘bowls’ were less bowls and more large cups. Single servings. Some had meat, others were clearly vegetarian. Another cup had yogurt with chunks of cucumber. The heaped plate of scrambled eggs made sense, at least. Though it would be more accurate to say it was scrambled eggs and tomato. An odd combination, but it was one that she could at least understand. 

Surprising was the amount of meat. It wasn’t common to eat much meat for breakfast, yet the table was lavished with a few small trays of thinly sliced beef on top of flat bread and skewers of lamb.

The spread of food was far heartier than usual Fódlandi breakfast fare.

“I was informed of your dietary shifts and increased appetites. Please, I hope this will be adequate— eat as much as you like.” Rhea began to serve herself, flashing them a smile that was probably supposed to be encouraging. It wasn’t.

Claude reached out and plucked a small string of the grape-like fruit, turning it in his hand. “These are dates, aren’t they?”

Rhea smiled, appearing pleased that he recognized her outlandish fruit. “Indeed they are. An old favorite of mine.”

Claude hummed as he munched on them. He served himself some of the long slices of an odd cooked vegetable. It reminded her of a cucumber or some form of gourd, though the skin was a vivid purple. Dimitri took this as his cue to get food as well (or perhaps the rumble of his stomach was his cue). He hesitated over what to put on his plate, causing Edelgard to roll her eyes in exasperation. She pushed down the sudden urge to take his plate for him and fill it. She’d let him fumble this time. Instead she helped herself to the meat, as well as some of the pastries.

She examined the roll in her hand. She took a bite, suppressing the delighted sound that tried to escape her lips. Inside the dumpling was sweet meat, unexpected but delicious.

There was something surreal about eating alien foods with the Archbishop. The food was delicious but soured by the circling questions about  _ why _ they were doing this. What did Rhea want from them? Why the elaborate spread? Surely if Rhea had learned of their deception, she wouldn’t be so calm. But if not that, then why?

Dimitri bit into a long wedge of bread. A string of cheese hung from inside the loaf as Dimitri carefully ate. “Lady Rhea, I must ask… While I am grateful for this— we need not be spoiled. Food from the dining hall would have sufficed.”

Rhea’s smile grew softer, though not soft enough for Edelgard to trust it (that would be impossible). “Please, you needn’t worry. I was feeling rather… mm, nostalgic. Perhaps this meal was a touch selfish on my part. It has been oh so long since I have baked, but I am pleased my skills are still adequate.”

Edelgard nearly spat the rest of her dumpling. She swallowed roughly. “You made all this food?”

“Not all of it. Some of the fruit was imported.” Rhea gave them what was probably supposed to be a coy smile. It sent shivers down Edelgard’s spine. “Though I will confess to having grown some of these from my own personal garden.”

“We are honored, Archbishop,” Dimitri said. Edelgard did  _ not _ feel honored. “You didn’t need to do this.” Rhea  _ really  _ didn’t need to do this.

Again Rhea shook her head. “Please, as I have said, call me Rhea.”

“Can’t say I’ve ever seen many of these dishes in Fódlan before,” Claude idly commented. He held up a half-eaten roll. “Where are these from?”

Rhea’s lips thinned, her eyes shifting to look at the view over the monastery. “An old Fódlan tradition. One mostly lost to time, I’m afraid. It does bring me great joy to share this dear family tradition once more, however.”

Rhea continued to urge them to eat. Despite the lead in her stomach, Edelgard  _ was _ hungry and the food was very good. She knew the Archbishop wouldn’t poison them, not at the moment at least. Still, she refused to let her guard down around the woman.

_ Goddess, _ but the food was strange! She took one of the cups of yogurt, assuming that at least would be normal. A single sip and her lifelong years of diplomatic training were being put to the test. It took all of her willpower not to spit out the white substance as soon as she tasted it, let alone keep her face straight.  _ Usually _ yogurt was sweetened with added fruits or jam. Not this. No, this was  _ salty. _ Spiced with things she couldn’t identify. After regaining her mental composure she took a second bite. It was quite good, when not expected to be sweet. 

She was torn on whether the food was foreign creations or simply odd experiments schemed up by Rhea.

“How have you three been settling into your new forms?” This was the Rhea Edelgard was more familiar with. Shrewd eyes trying to pick them apart.

They shared a glance. “As well as to be expected,” Edelgard answered for the three of them. “There is much to adjust to.”

Rhea nodded. “I would imagine as such. It came to my attention that it would be beneficial for you three to have an exclusive teacher, one focused on using your new blessings to their fullest extent. I considered taking this task up myself, but,” Rhea’s smile fell, “I do not think I am best suited to the task, beyond my duties taking up much of my time.”

Edelgard so desperately wanted to sigh in relief, but held it in.

“Rather, when I made the suggestion aloud, dear Byleth was adamant she tutor you three.” Rhea’s smile returned, a touch too wide. She gave a small laugh. “Indeed, she was quite blunt about it. Said she trusted no one else to aid you three. She is quite loyal.”

“I am sure she meant no offense, Archb— Lady Rhea,” Dimitri rose to her defense.

Rhea smiled and shook her head. “Do not worry, I took none. It is rather endearing to see her care so.” Not for the first time, Edelgard wondered about Rhea’s strange trust in Byleth. No, trust wasn’t the correct word.  _ Fascination. Adoration. _

Rhea clasped her hands together. “Now, I do believe it is nearing time to head to class. Please, do not allow me to make you late.” Like a bell tolling their doom, Rhea had one last thing to say to them. “I do look forward to further meals such as this.”

* * *

Claude’s thoughts were still reeling as he walked to class. There were just… so many layers to unpack. He’d been excited when he realized they got to go to the mysterious third floor. The security on that part of the monastery was nothing to scoff at. It was impossible to sneak his way in, but to be invited? A perfect opportunity. 

He didn’t know what his expectations had been, but they were blown out of the water. He still wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

… Who was he kidding, the paranoia Rhea sparked in him was totally worth the insight into a new mystery.

What was going  _ on  _ with Rhea? Tea was one thing, but such an extravagant meal? He wasn’t sure which nugget of information was more tantalizing— that Rhea had cooked it all herself, or the foreignness compared to Fódlan cuisine. 

The food reminded him sharply of his own homeland’s cuisine. The differences were wide and many, but between Almyra food and Fódlan food, what Rhea made was much closer to Almyran. Yet she claimed it originated from Fódlan. Was that a lie? He didn’t know an awful lot about the foods of other cultures, but he knew enough that he didn’t recognize what Rhea made as being like any other. Not Dagdan, Brigid, Noan, Srengi… It was something wholly unique as far as he could tell. Even the table and seating were something influenced by this mysterious culture, he’d bet his bow on it. People didn’t just sit on the floor and forgo their usual spot of eating for no reason.

But  _ why _ serve the food to them? What was Rhea trying to say? At first he had feared she was taunting him, the Almyran dates a clear bait. It wasn’t that.

Rhea was old, he reminded himself. Inhumanly old. Sometimes he forgot that when he looked at her. Other times though, she got this look in her eye. Those times made it hard to remember that she ever appeared human. According to Edelgard Rhea was a draconic beast of legend, possibly Saint Seiros herself. 

Perhaps the cuisine she served them was how food was prepared millennia ago? That  _ would _ explain why it was so unlike anything else. An  _ ‘old’ _ tradition, one  _ ‘lost to time’ _ Rhea had claimed.

What an opportunity! He would need to write down what he remembered as soon as he got back to his room. Like a snapshot into ancient history. Excitement buzzed through his limbs.  _ Gods, _ if only he could pick Rhea’s memories for old stories. She must have been around for so many of Fódlan’s historical events. She probably had a hand in most of them personally. Not that he could ask her anything without blowing their cover. Still, the very idea of it was tantalizing. First hand account of ancient history, even if a biased one… 

No, he realized. It was more than that. Whatever meal Rhea made for them hadn’t just been old, it had been unique. If it had been proto-Fódlan food, the ingredients would have matched up better with modern day ingredients. Rhea said the food was from Fódlan. Perhaps food from an old culture that died out?   


He itched to write out his thoughts. A  _ family _ tradition was what Rhea called it. Rhea wasn’t human. That implied there were— or had been at one point— more creatures like her. Unless she meant family of choice and not by blood, which was a possibility. Still. _ A group of immortal and God-like creatures. _

Hm, suddenly Edelgard’s paranoia about Rhea controlling Fódlan held more weight…

Was the food from Rhea’s inhuman culture, then? It must be, surely. What other explanation was there? Gods, a lost culture... A culture apart from humans, yet so similar. People asked him why he enjoyed mysteries so much. How could he _not_ when things like this popped up?!

The implications sent shivers of curiosity down his spine. If that was the case, why was the food compatible with human digestion? Scratch that, was Rhea’s diet equal to that of humans? Shouldn’t a dragon’s diet be closer to that of a wyvern’s? Did she even need to cook her food? Could she eat raw meat like a wyvern? Or was her diet limited to that of a human when she was in human guise?  _ Really though, how does that all work? _ He had so little knowledge to go off of. He had no clue what Rhea was in any technical sense. Probably reptilian, based off the few religious iconography of the 'Great White Beast' that aided in the fight against Nemesis. Any logical assumptions he could make would be too far in the realm of guesswork to be usable. 

He shook his head. He was getting off track. 

_ A family tradition.  _ Did Rhea officially have a family? He was pretty sure she didn’t, unless it was a secret. All he could remember reading about was Rhea’s mother— the acting archbishop before her. She had died shortly before Rhea took position as— 

Wait… 

Claude tried to remember what he had read about the line of archbishops. Always had a Crest of Seiros. Always women. No pictures or portraits shown.

** _How_ ** _ did no one noticed the archbishop was always the same person for the past 1,000 years?! _

_He_ knew because Edelgard had implied it to him. But by Fódlan’s Goddess, how did no one else notice?! Did no one in Fódlan think that was at least a little fishy?

It made him wonder. He could feel the wheels of a delightful scheme begin to turn in his head. How often did Rhea fake her own death? How did she hold down the power vacuum while she was ‘dead’? Could they exploit that power vacuum? With Edelgard’s Crest of Seiros and with how much Rhea was favoring all three of them, she would be a clear choice as a successor… If he checked the old records again, he might be able to find a pattern for how often Rhea ‘died’. If that timeframe was within the next few years… 

He blinked, nearly walking face first into a door. He stood in front of the Golden Deer classroom. His thoughts still whirled. He considered skipping class and heading back to his room… Nah, that wouldn’t work. He would have been hard-pressed to skip back when he was only the class leader. He was even less conspicuous now. Reluctantly he shelved his thoughts for later. He entered the classroom and pasted a smile on his face. Considering the giddy feelings still chirping in his chest, it wasn’t a hard smile to force.

“Claude!” Leonie’s voice assaulted his sensitive ears the moment he stepped in. Claude threw a wave to her. She stomped up to him, angry? “Why didn’t you  _ tell me?!” _ she all but yelled at him.

“Leonie, that is no way to act!” Lorenz voice barked in the background, ignored by everyone.

Claude shrugged. “I probably didn’t tell you because I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She thrust a finger towards his chest, glaring. “Don’t act like you don’t know!”

Claude tilted his head to look past Leonie, hoping someone could fill him in. Hilda was snoozing away at her desk. Lorenz might fill him in, but Claude wasn’t about to touch that with a 10ft pole. Lysithea was actively ignoring everything around her with her nose buried in a book. He didn’t blame her. Ignatz avoided eye contact, and Raphael looked just as confused as Claude was. Claude didn’t even bother looking in Marianne’s direction.

Well, when in doubt… “Seriously  _ doe _ , I have no  _ ideer _ what you’re talking about.” He winked.

“Yes you— wait, did you just—”

Claude flicked an ear. “Hmmmm?”

Leonie’s face scrunched up to an impressive degree, turning a bit red. “You didn’t tell me about  _ Captain Jeralt’s daughter!” _

Claude frowned. “What? Captain Jeralt, as in the former captain of the Knights of Seiros? Look Leonie, I know you’re obsessed with the guy, but I don’t see what that’s got to do with me.”

“His daughter! You didn’t tell me! You knew about her!”

“He has a daughter? Ooo, are you jealous? Is that your problem, you’re jealous that he has a daughter?” Leonie’s face turned even redder. “Aw, that’s so cute.”

“That’s  _ not _ what I mean! I’m not jealous!”

Claude laughed. “That’s just what someone who’s jealous would say.” He winked for good measure. “Just go find Jeralt’s daughter, marry her, and bam! You’re his child too.”

Leonie’s jaw dropped open. Some of her anger faded as she broke eye contact. “That’s not— huh, I guess that would… I, I mean, don’t be stupid! That’s not— ugh, I should have known you didn’t change at all!”

“What, don’t you want to call your precious Captain Jeralt ‘daddy’?” His grin only grew as Leonie’s face took on a whole new shade of red. He was so engrossed in his teasing he didn’t hear the door open behind him. He pitched his voice higher in a mockery of Leonie’s voice. “‘You’re all I think about daddy! Love me daddy! Daddy—’”

“Shut up shut up shut up!” Maaaybe he should have expected Leonie to slam into him, cutting off his mockery as she sent them both flailing to the floor. Her hands desperately scrabbled over his mouth, as if falling to the ground wasn’t enough to shut him up. He expected Leonie’s red face to be glaring at him, but instead her red face and wide eyes stared up at someone at the door.

Claude ran his tongue along Leonie’s hands. Unfortunately, this just earned him a glare. 

“Not even a day in and I already regret this…” a familiar voice bemoaned.

Leonie scrambled off of him, standing up straight. This gave Claude a chance to tilt his head back.

“Oh hey there Mr. Byleth’s Dad, fancy seeing you here!”

“Claude! Have some respect!” Leonie hissed.

“Hey kiddo. Looks like you had a bit of a fawn there. Need a hoof getting up?” Claude had to snort at the deadpan delivery of the puns. The man sounded like the words were a physical pain to speak.

He did in fact need help getting up, but he wasn’t going to admit that (yet). The slick floors of the monastery made it borderline impossible for him to get back up after he slipped. He couldn’t  _ wait _ for those leather shoes the cordwainer promised him.

“So I hear Byleth volunteered to teach a few lessons herself. You get drafted too?”

The man sighed. “You’re more right than you know. You brats better be worth it.”

“C-captain Jeralt! It’s an honor to learn under you again!”

Claude frowned. Wait, what?

The man sighed again, but moved to ruffle Leonie’s hair nonetheless. “Sure, sure.”

Realization clicked into place. Byleth’s father was Jeralt Eisner. Former captain of the Knights of Seiros. A mercenary of almost unparalleled renown. The  _ Blade Breaker. _

“Something startle you, kiddo? Your ears just bolted up.”

Gods curse his  _ damned ears. _ He was great at controlling his expression, but he still hadn’t mastered the ears. He played his usual smirk, shrugging. “Just a bit surprised is all. You never mentioned your name.”

He felt a sick churn in his stomach. He remembered how hesitant and distrustful Jeralt was of the Church. What could make the former  _ captain of the guard _ so fearful? No wonder he spoke of Rhea with so much familiarity, he must have known the Archbishop well. And yet he had warned them not to trust her.

* * *

Edelgard couldn’t shake the claustrophobic feeling in her chest. What game was Rhea playing at? She hadn’t shown a single hint at suspecting their deception. Was she playing mind games with them?

Edelgard knew mind games. She knew the way words could be twisted until they wriggle past defenses and choked. She knew double meanings and bluffs. She knew truths hidden in lies and lies hidden in truth. Edelgard knew manipulation intimately. But whatever Rhea was doing was different. It left her feeling on the back-foot, like she was playing a game without knowing how to move the pieces.

Edelgard was used to playing chess as a pawn. She knew how to bide her time and pretend she was as powerless a pawn as they assumed her to be. She knew to conceal that she was the queen on the board, not a weak king or pawn piece. How many years had she operated under that? Gritting her teeth as she worked alongside the very monsters that killed her family, waiting for the day she could oust them. Waiting for a day after she freed humanity from Rhea’s clutches, when she could finally free humanity from the dark whispers.

Now she was on the other side. Just as she had grit her teeth to work beside Those who Slither, she would now grit her teeth and work beside the inhuman beast. All it would take was Rhea sniffing out the white paint she covered her black allegiance with. Should Rhea find out… 

But that was nothing new. Edelgard had been strung above a tightrope for so long, hiding her true allegiance was nothing new. It was no worse than before.    


Edelgard was playing chess in the dark. She couldn’t see the board, couldn’t see what color any of the other pieces were. She could only move herself. 

Edelgard smoothed down her feathers again. As soon as she lost focus they would ruffle themselves again, puffing up. It was rather annoying. No sooner had she brought her hand away that they puffed up again. She gave up, electing to ignore it. She doubted anyone in her class knew her wings well enough to tell anyways.

“You can do it Bernie. Just gotta walk through the doors. It’s easy! C’mon, c’mon... “

Edelgard stared at Bernadetta. The mousy girl was hunched on the ground in front of the classroom door, hands covering her head as she trembled. “Is everything alright, Bernadetta?”

The girl screeched and whirled around, falling over in her haste. “Who’s there?! I didn’t do it, I swear!”

“Please calm yourself, I merely was asking if you are alright…”

“O-oh, Edelgard? I, I mean! Lady Edelgard! I’m sorry!” Bernadetta whipped her head side to side, looking around. “Why are you here? D-did I do something wrong? Is it because I was staring at you the other day?”

“What? Bernadetta, I’m not upset with you.”

“No! You’re just saying that! Trying to catch me off guard!” Bernadetta flung an accusing finger towards her. “I’m not fooled by your tricks!”

Edelgard sighed, shaking her head. “I just wanted to know if there was any reason you were sitting outside the classroom. Nothing more.”

“Oh no, I’m in your way!” Bernadetta tugged at her hair, visibly trembling. She crumpled to the ground, prostrating herself before Edelgard. It was probably supposed to be a bow but it just looked like she was trying to make herself as small as possible. “I meant no offense, um, Your Grace? Your Holiness? Saint Edelgard? Oh no oh no, what’s the proper title? Think Bernie, think…” 

“Just Edelgard is fine, Bernadetta…”

“Oh no now you’re angry!”

Edelgard pinched the brow of her nose. She took a deep breath. “I’m not angry. I would appreciate if you stopped jumping to conclusions, though.”

“Please don’t eat me! I’m sorry!” Bernadetta scrambled away and ran in the direction of the dorms.

Edelgard ran a hand down her face. Was she really that intimidating? She knew she often came across as cold and unfeeling, but she wouldn’t attack someone for no reason!

At least Bernadetta had given her a mental respite from her circling paranoia about Rhea.

Though class had yet to start, when she entered the classroom she noticed Seteth already stood at the front of the classroom. She tamped down the flare of irritation she felt. Of all the people to take over as teacher for the day. Seteth was her second least favorite person in the Church. The man was shrewd and observant. Someone to be wary around.

Small blessings that the man either took pity on the three of them or felt guilty about what happened. Never let it be said she didn’t give credit where credit was due— Seteth could have made their lives far more difficult. He cut the three of them a great deal of slack. Still, she always felt exposed under Seteth’s eye. Her discomfort was only exacerbated by the way she always felt disarmed in the absence of Dimitri and Claude.

Glancing around the classroom she confirmed everyone else was in attendance. Minus Bernadetta, of course. Edelgard resolved to take a second set of notes for the girl. It was her duty as House Leader, after all.

As she went to take her seat, she was surprised to find Petra sitting beside Hubert.

“But climbing trees has great strategy value! With added height, the enemy will not see you. What is the phrasing of it…? Ah, yes. People rarely look up.”

“Be that as it may, climbing a tree in the middle of a battle would be more a liability than an asset. Think of all the arrows an opponent could fill your body with as you climb.”

“Hm, you make good points… Oh, Lady Edelgard! Good morning!”

Edelgard smiled. “Good morning to you as well, Petra. And to you too, Hubert.”

Hubert gave a small bow. “I trust your morning tea with the Archbishop went without issue?” There was a thread of concern concealed in his words.

“Nothing bad. I can tell you about it later.”

“Lady Edelgard, I am hoping you do not mind my sitting at your side for this lesson,” Petra said.

Edelgard took her seat, settling in the space between the two. “Not at all. Might I ask why, though?”

“I am wanting to learn more of you! You are very, ah… incredible, yes! I am finding you inspire awe in me. Oh, what was the word Caspar taught me…? Awesome, yes. You are very awesome.”

Edelgard allowed herself an amused smile. Perhaps class would be more bearable than she originally assumed.

* * *

Dimitri couldn’t help but think Rhea had seemed lonely as they left. He couldn’t put a finger on why, just… a gut feeling. 

He felt guilty that he couldn’t properly enjoy the food that Rhea had clearly gone to a lot of effort to make. The texture of the cheesy-bread had been nice, at least. And the aroma had been delightful. He knew Rhea wasn’t to be trusted— and he didn’t trust her— but he didn’t think her current intentions were malicious. She just seemed…

Lonely.

Had he imagined the way her eyes seemed to linger with longing? It was a look he recognized. The same look was used to hiding in himself, a lingering pain that never quite disappeared after the Tragedy. 

A familiar feeling of grief welled up in his sternum as he thought on it. _ Missing father and mother. Desperately wanting to share even just one more meal with them, happy and alive. To be able to look past their ghosts and see them living. _

He pushed the old grief down. It felt like a physical weight in his chest, expanding and coiling within. He sighed, giving up on trying to push it away. He let it remain. The pain was a good reminder. 

Being with Claude and El was nice. The grief of his loss never left him, but with the other two it was… softer. Lighter. It didn’t choke him, devour him until all that was left was a hollow shell. Before their kidnapping, when was the last time he truly laughed? He couldn’t think of a single instance since the tragedy. Yet since their return, how many times had Claude teased a real laugh from him? How many times had El brought a true smile to his lips? It was like a physical blow when he realized he couldn’t count how often. Multiple times, mundane and simple and natural.

When he was with El and Claude his ghosts were quiet. At night they still demanded, but even their loudest screams were drowned out by El and Claude’s soft murmurs. All he needed was to hear their living heartbeats warm against his chest.

It made times like these even more difficult. Without them he felt adrift and alone. Incomplete. His mother reprimanded him over and over for it. ‘ _ They have made you  _ ** _weak_ ** _ ,’ _ she screamed. There was truth to her words. He felt crippled. How could he trust his own eyes and ears when Claude and El weren’t around? How was he to know what was too much, what was too little? What of a loss of control?

Despite this, despite  _ knowing _ he was growing weaker by attaching himself… he knew it was too late to hold them at arms length. He couldn’t imagine life without them. The thought itself terrified him.

Dimitri reached into his pocket, clutching at the two patches of cloth he had taken to carrying with him. After a quick glance to confirm no one was around to see him, he brought both strips of fabric to his nose and inhaled. The smell of El and Claude calmed his heart, calmed his irrational fear that they were dead. Shame poured through him at the fact that he  _ needed _ this, but it did nothing to damper the wash of relief.

Dimitri knew what it looked like to see only ghosts instead of the living. He  _ knows  _ the pain and grief and madness it breeds. He wants to believe he imagined that look in Rhea. That he was wrong. What would the Archbishop have to mourn?

Rhea had invited them to her personal terrace. She made them a meal, set the table for them.  _ Old family tradition, lost to time. _ Her face and voice hadn’t shifted but Dimitri had heard the scars of pain and longing in her tone.

An old  _ family  _ tradition. Rhea had no family that he was aware of.

Dimitri was not good at reading faces. But he knew the expression Rhea gave them. It was the same he once gave to Ingrid and Sylvain and Felix. Begging to have things go back to normal again even though he knew they never would. Begging for that closeness they shared before Glenn’s death. Begging to  _ please, please just let me have this. Call me my name. Be my family again. I have no one else left. _   


Longing for family.

He didn’t know what it meant, that Rhea looked at them like that.

He entered the Blue Lions classroom. Predictably, conversation came to an unnatural halt. He dropped his gaze to the floor, again cursing his separation from Claude and El. Unlike him, they knew how to reassure their classmates. Conversation began again, if halting in his presence. 

He noted Dedue in his usual spot at the back of the classroom. Usually Dedue had the whole bench to himself, being that few wanted to risk the rumors that might spring forth from conversing with a man of Duscur. So it was a pleasant surprise to see Ashe beside him, engaged in a conversation.

Dimitri really did need to find a way to properly thank Hilda. He still couldn’t fathom how she managed it. In two scant weeks she managed to help Dedue in a way Dimitri never could have.  _ ‘Just another way you fail him,’ _ father whispered.

Dimitri dithered on where he should sit. Before everything, he liked to sit at the front of the classroom. Now though, he didn’t want the extra eyes on him. He could sit next to Dedue, but he feared his presence would stifle the conversation. No, he would do everything in his power to prevent himself from spoiling Dedue’s new friendships.

“He clearly doesn’t know where to sit. I’ll just wave him down,” he heard Sylvain whisper.

“Don’t you dare! I’ll not sit near that  _ beast,” _ Felix hissed.

“Felix, you can’t keep calling His Highness that!” Ingrid hissed right back. “Beyond the fact that it’s disrespectful, you can get in real trouble for saying that about a Child of Sothis.”

“Tch, whatever.”

“Sylvain, sit back down! We agreed to give him space!”

Sylvain shrugged. “No,  _ you  _ said we were going to give him space.  _ I _ still think that’s dumb.”

“Oh, Dimitri! Would you like to sit here?” Mercedes called out to him, pleasant smile as she waved.

Dimitri spared her a small smile and wave in return. It was nice that at least one person in class was willing to give him the simple courtesy of calling him by his name. But he shook his head. He knew Annette still wasn’t entirely comfortable around him. 

He took a seat in the empty row.

Then Sylvain stood and gathered his things, switching rows to come sit beside him. Dimitri was surprised. His expression must have shown his shock, because Sylvain laughed. “Thought you might like some company, Your Highness. If you want me gone though, just say the word.”

“That is very kind of you, Sylvain. Thank you.”

Sylvain shrugged. There was something about his grin— no, not his grin. His eyes. Too sharp and observant. It reminded him of Claude. Sylvain rolled his shoulders, an overly casual gesture. “So, got any tips? Here I thought I was the master, but clearly you beat me out. Somehow.”

Dimitri frowned, sensing a trap. “...Tips?”

“On picking up chicks!” Sylvain winked, lowering his voice a bit, “Or cute boys, I’m not too picky. You reeled in both you sly dog— or, sly cat?”

Dimitri groaned into his hand. He should have expected that.

“Should I give them a dagger? Is that the secret?” Sylvain continued. There was something… off about his tone. Dimitri frowned, looking closer at Sylvain. “What? Sorry, sorry. I know what you’re about to say, ‘Sylvain we didn’t do anything, don’t be so improper!’ but that’s so boring.”

Again Sylvain reminded him of Claude. The way he would lead with completely irrelevant questions to dig out something he was curious about, the roundabout way Claude’s mind worked when he wanted to figure something out. That glint in his eyes. Had Sylvain always looked like that? Had Dimitri just been too ignorant to see?

“Sylvain, what is your real question?” Dimitri couldn’t play the same game. If he tried, Sylvain would run circles around him. So he decided not to play the game at all.

Sylvain whined. “What’dya mean? That is my real question!” Dimitri maintained eye contact. Sylvain only held his look for a few moments before looking away and rubbing the back of his neck. “Those cat eyes of yours are really something else, you know that?”

“Sylvain, I spent nearly two weeks in constant quarters with Claude von Riegan. A very  _ bored _ Claude von Riegan. I know I’m dense, but even I learned a few of his tricks in that time. You can either get to the point or go sit back with Felix and Ingrid.”

Sylvain whistled. “Well, color me impressed!”

“Sylvain.”

Sylvain threw up his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. You win. The truth is I’m just trying to get a feel for how concerned I need to be. How are you doing, what with everything that’s happened? You know me, can’t an old friend be worried?”

_ Half-truth. _ There were too many deflections in his words for it to be the real reason. Dimitri tried to stifle the bitter disappointment that bloomed in his chest. He wasn’t successful. Did Sylvain not trust him? Dimitri didn’t think his request was unreasonable:  _ don’t lie to me. _ Was it too much to ask for honesty from one of his oldest friends?

Dimitri shook his head. “I appreciate your concern. I’m fine. You can go sit with Felix and Ingrid if you refuse to tell me.”

Sylvain leaned back. “Wow, are you a lie detector now?”

“No, that would make things too easy,” he grumbled. “What I wouldn’t give to be one though.”

Sylvain stood, usual smile and a shake to his head. “Well, guess I’ll be heading back to Buzzkill and Killkill. We  _ are _ here for you though, don’t forget that.”

Dimitri nodded. Had Sylvain’s smile always looked so artificial? It looked the same as it always had, yet... It was practically the same as the smile Claude gave when he was uncomfortable. No, not the smile. It was the eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dimitri: Guys I think Rhea is just sad :(  
Edelgard: Well I think Rhea is a VIPER, just WAITING to murder us all!  
Claude: Do you guys think Rhea lays eggs?  
Dimi/El: ... what?  
Claude, tying strings on his third conspiracy tact-board: Is Rhea a mammal or a reptile? These are serious questions I have!
> 
> (alt)  
Claude: Hey Dimitri? Hey, hey Edelgard? do you think Rhea can eat raw meat?  
Dimi/El: Claude wtf it's 2am go to sleep
> 
> Ended up basing the food section on mostly Armenia stuff. I know *Claude* is supposed to be the more arab inspired character (Turkish, Pakistani, what have you), but it seems the Nabatea also are.
> 
> Fun useless fact of the day: the Nabatea (the race that Rhea is) are probably inspired by real life Nabataens, an old civilization. Looking at pictures of the ancient city of Al-Khazneh really invokes Zanado vibes, so I just went with it. Historically, it's thought the Nabataens were probably a northern-arabian tribe and not Armenian, though there is some debate over that. Still, I went with basing cultural stuff off Armenian things since it was close enough culturally and was easier to research and not spend an entire day researching pointless history (only spent like 1/3rd of a day instead aha).
> 
> Next chapter: Diabetes inducing fluff, emotions??? in my fic???? plus some Byleth


	7. Byleth is MVP (aka Mom's Very Proud)

**Monday, 5th of Harpstring Moon**

**(Midday)**

“So, combat training then?” Dimitri was excited. It was just the three of them and Byleth. He knew Byleth had no prior experience as a teacher, but he was certain she wouldn’t disappoint. Her wide experience as a mercenary would give her a unique teaching style, one he was certain would be beneficial.

Byleth hummed, her sharp eyes looking each of them over. He stood up straighter under her gaze, determined to not disappoint. “No. Not yet. Mobility first. Can’t fight back if you can’t move confidently first.” Sound advice, Dimitri could only imagine the chaos of Claude attempting to use any kind of melee weapon in his current state.

The walls of the monastery were distantly visible through the foliage. Their location was nice and private. They were in a clearing near the ruins of an old chapel. He doubted any of the other professors would have suggested this, which was another reason he was looking forward to Byleth’s unique teachings. In fact, he was surprised Byleth was allowed to take them outside the monastery walls at all. They weren’t prisoners of course, but there was a buzz among the guards about their safety. For them to be allowed in this remote place without a platoon of guards either meant they were being given special treatment to be allowed in the area, or Byleth just hadn’t told anyone where they would be training.

Byleth pointed out the trail they were to take— across the open field, through the forest, cross the river, and circle back. It was not a short distance, and a part of him was eager to let loose. He hadn’t been to the training grounds at all since his return and he was itching to do something. Even if it was only running.

Claude groaned. “Running? Really? You’re picking on me!”

Edelgard rolled her eyes. “Practice makes perfect. Come, let’s begin.” She flipped a hand through her hair, throwing a at Claude. “Try not to trip.”

Claude rolled his eyes. “Try to keep up. Hey, Byleth, do we get a reward for being the fastest?” He flashed a wink.

“No.”

Claude shrugged. “Well, you two heard her. Winner gets the illustrious prize of glorious nothing! May the fastest deer win.”

Then they were off. Their start was… lackluster. Dimitri thought it best to pace himself, so he began at a slow jog. He quickly outpaced the other two despite his slow speed. Clearly it wouldn’t be much of a challenge for him to win their little competition. Not worried about his speed, he took a moment to peer behind him. Claude was, well— 

Claude was having difficulties. Dimitri couldn’t bite back his laughter. Claude hadn’t fallen over, but it was a near thing. Claude gave him a downright baleful glare, one promising retribution. Dimitri shuddered. Maybe he shouldn’t laugh at Claude… 

Claude stabilized himself and tried again. He started out walking before lurching into a wobbly canter. He got a few steps before his legs stumbled and he fell out of step, coming to a halt lest he fall on his face.

“Try to keep up,” El taunted as she passed him. She was going slow as well, but her steady pace was faster than Claude’s halting one. Her taloned feet were doing her no favor when it came to speed, nor were her wings that awkwardly spread out behind her.

Dimitri faced forward and resolved to continue. Despite purposely going at a slow jog, Dimitri quickly outpaced the other two. He was pleased to find that his muscles hadn’t noticeably atrophied from their stint held in captivity.

He was just approaching the treeline when he heard Claude let out a whoop. A few moments later and Claude passed him. He bounded by, turning his head to cock a wink and cheeky wave. Then he was disappearing off into the treeline, too fast for Dimitri’s slow jog. Seemed he finally figured out how to work his legs.

_ Well, if that’s how it’s going to be… _ Dimitri abandoned his jog and broke into a full sprint, chasing after where he last saw Claude. It was _ good _ to go all out, wind at his face and adrenaline spiking through his body. With his strength he had always been a fast runner and the alterations to his legs hadn’t changed that. He let an unrestrained smile split his face. Not the polite one he held around others, but a full-toothed grin.

The forests were proving to be a challenge to get through at his top speed. There was no trail to follow and the undergrowth was a decent deterrent. He was hampered by tall shrubbery, fallen logs, and the usual things that made navigating forests difficult. Nonetheless he managed to catch up to Claude. Not because he was faster than Claude, but rather because Claude had fallen to a lazy trot. 

As soon as he had Claude back in his eyesight, Claude’s ear twitched and he shot off again. Dimitri bit back a curse and struggled to keep him in sight. Where branches and roots kept him stumbling, Claude bounced over each obstacle with a surprising amount of grace for someone who was gaining a reputation for tripping.

Claude slowed down again, this time allowing Dimitri to fully catch up before keeping pace. Dimitri spared Claude a smile. “You’re doing remarcably well!”

“No need to flatter me. I _ deer _ you to catch up!” Claude winked. Dimitri saw the competitive glint in his eyes, the way his smirk was a little _ too _satisfied. Claude bounded in front of him, only a few feet ahead. Dimitri frowned and picked up his pace. Despite looking forward, Claude also picked up his pace, remaining barely out of reach. Claude wasn’t going all out, instead maintaining the perfect speed to go slightly faster than Dimitri.

Dimitri couldn’t help the way his eyes followed Claude. His movements were bouncy, agile, and graceful. He navigated the forest like it was nothing. It was a far cry from his usual bumbling gait. There was something mesmerizing about the sight. Dimitri was beginning to feel the burn in his lungs and muscles but Claude looked fresh.

Then Claude did something else. He flicked his tail.

He didn’t just flick his tail. He raised it up straight, flashing the light cream color underneath. Then he wiggled it a bit. Twitched it to the left then flicked it to the right. Dimitri’s eyes were fixed. Claude turned his head and gave an overly smug smirk.

After every stumble Dimitri made, Claude made sure to slow down _ just _ enough for Dimitri to almost catch up. A growl built in the back of his throat. _ Claude was taunting him! _

He paused, stopping entirely to catch his breath. He panted, expecting Claude to say something witty and leave him in the dust. He was half right. Instead of speeding off, Claude turned around and hopped towards him.

_ Around him. _ Claude was bounding in a circle around Dimitri, still out of reach. Another growl spilled out of Dimitri’s lips. Having caught his breath, he leapt at Claude. All he caught was a bout of laughter as Claude easily avoided his grasp. Claude even had the audacity to put his arms behind his head as if he was casually going for a stroll, and not running _ literal _circles around Dimitri.

Dimitri charged, but he made no progress. Each time Dimitri got close, Claude just snickered and circled behind him, forcing Dimitri to whirl and try from a new angle. Claude continued to hop circles around him. “Wow Dimitri, you look like a cat trying to catch its own tail!”

Dimitri grit his teeth, his tail giving an angry lash. He took a deep breath and resolved to ignore Claude’s taunts. He pushed forward, doing his best to ignore Claude.

It was very, _ very _ difficult to ignore Claude.

Even as Dimitri sprinted forward Claude effortlessly circled him still, keeping pace easily. Any time Claude crossed in front of Dimitri, he’d wag his infuriating tail again. Give a little wiggle, a little shake, and a smug smirk. Dimitri made to veer another lunge at Claude, but Claude was just too fast.

Dimitri’s glare only seemed to make Claude’s grin grow. “What’s wrong? The widdle kitty can’t catch dinner?” It was the demeaning tone rather than the content of Claude’s words that were grating. “Aren’t cats supposed to be fast?”

_ Just ignore him, just ignore him, just ignore him… _

Claude’s tail fwipped out again, zipping side to side.

“Just wait till I get my hands on you!” Dimitri roared. He threw himself towards Claude, any and all thoughts about his running form thrown to the side in favor of brute instinct. He didn’t notice his hands coming down to the ground. He didn’t notice his shift to running on all fours. He didn’t notice his claws extending, the sudden grip he had over the roots and trees around him. He didn’t notice anything as his focus tunneled on Claude.

A smile curled on his lips at Claude’s yelp. Dimitri rapidly began to close the distance. Claude gave two hops ahead before breaking into a gallop, but this time Dimitri was faster. He kept pace and was slowly gaining.

Dimitri’s whiskers twitched in anticipation. He was close,_ so close. _

Claude made a sharp turn and zig-zagged, but Dimitri wasn’t so easily fooled. Claude made the mistake of looking over his shoulder to see how close Dimitri was, a mistake that Dimitri capitalized on as he pounced.

His back legs shot out like springs, launching him towards Claude. The speed behind his leap would have surprised him if he had been able to focus on anything that wasn’t Claude. He almost overshot, hooking his arm around Claude’s chest and bringing the deer down with him as they tumbled to the forest floor. Despite the haphazardness of his jump, he still managed to land on his feet, bringing Claude down to the ground and cradling his neck in a headlock. 

He nipped at one of Claude’s ears, satisfaction racing through him.

Claude made a struggle to get free, kicking his hooves into Dimitri’s chest. Dimitri gave a puff of air as the hooves struck, but he wiggled around Claude’s back and grappled him. He kept Claude’s hooves out in front of him and away from himself. It was childsplay to use his superior weight to pin Claude. 

Claude jolted his head to the side, smacking Dimitri in the face with his antlers. Dimitri let out a delighted growl, wrapping his legs around the barrel of Claude’s deer stomach, his hands letting go of the headlock in favor of wrapping around Claude’s upper chest and trapping his arms. Claude gave a pitiful whine as he kicked and struggled. Claude was slippery, nearly extracting himself before Dimitri tightened his grip. 

He gave a nip at Claude’s throat, satisfaction curling in his belly. Claude locked up, going stock still. Dimitri released Claude’s neck, opting to move down and nip at Claude’s shoulder, his teeth biting through cloth but stopping at flesh. Claude still remained tense.

Dimitri blinked, not understanding why Claude froze. He released an arm, bapping at Claude’s face twice. Was Claude breathing faster than he usually did? From where his nose was still pressed into Claude’s shoulder, he took in a deep breath. There was the smell Dimitri was beginning to associate with Claude, mingled with sweat and something sour. He didn’t like the sour smell— it reminded him of their time locked away. It reminded him of fear.

Claude’s breathing was still coming in loud and quick. Had he overexerted himself running? He clutched Claude closer. He nuzzled his nose into the crook of Claude’s neck, his back legs relaxing from the hold he held around Claude’s body. Claude gave a jittering jolt to move, but Dimitri growled and kept him down with his arm alone. _ Claude needed to rest. _

Dimitri’s chest rumbled with a low purr, though it wasn’t a happy purr. He gave a small whine, bapping Claude’s face again. A weight coiled in his chest like a physical need to _ comfort Claude, make him better. _ Pulling his head up from where he was nuzzling, Dimitri gave Claude’s cheek a big lick, starting from jawline and ending right under his eye. Claude shifted, still tense but no longer frozen.

He was halfway through his fifth lick when his brain caught up with him. He froze, tongue still out and resting on Claude’s cheek.

He blinked. Once. Twice.

He pulled his tongue back into his mouth. Took a deep breath. Kept his screaming internal. Mentally screamed again for good measure. Took another deep breath. Composed his thoughts.

_ “OhGoddessClaudeI’mSoSorry!” _ He shouted, scrambling to disentangle himself from Claude.

_ What had he done?! _ He’d— he’d attacked Claude! 

“Finally decided I don’t taste good?” Claude panted, shaky smile present despite how wide his pupils were blown.

“What?” He murmured, his thoughts still fuzzy. “Why would I think you taste good?”

Claude pointed to the wet sheen on his cheek. The spot where he had _ licked Claude Goddess why!? _

“I—! I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over me!” Goddess, he was _mortified._ _Why_ had he _licked _Claude?! He was just trying to comfort Claude… 

Claude groaned, still lying on the ground. Dimitri itched to get closer, to make sure he was alright. Instead, he kept his distance. “I probably deserved it. ‘Don’t tease the big fluffy kitty’, lesson learned! You didn’t actually hurt me or anything. Well, nearly gave me a heart attack I think. Also your tongue is like sandpaper, ow.” 

Dimitri buried his face in his hands. What _ had _ happened to him? Claude’s teasing had been annoying, yes, but not grounds to attack him! “I have no words to express how sorry I am. I won’t let it happen again.”

Claude waved a flippant hand in the air. “It’s fine. Like I said, you didn’t hurt me. If your instincts overwhelmed you, well… mine did too. I knew you wouldn’t do any real damage, but I still froze up. _ Like a deer in torchlight, _ ugh. If you’re a predator now, I’m prey.” The last word he spat with distaste. “Gah, these ‘instinct’ things are such a pain.”

Dimitri sat on a log, hands still over his face. “Claude, how are you calm about this? I attacked you!” Dimitri wondered if it was possible to combust from pure shame.

“Yeah, but you didn’t hurt me. Instincts or no, you wouldn’t hurt me.”

Dimitri grimaced, looking away. He wrapped his arms around himself, gripping his arms. “Don’t say things like that. You can’t know I won’t accidentally hurt you.” Images of the many, many fragile things he had broken over the years flashed through his mind. Even more unwelcome were the memories of rebellion in western Faerghus that assaulted him. Memories of how easily he could kill with his bare hands. Of how easily bone broke and skulls cracked under his strength.

And that had all been _ before _ these new damned instincts.

“Sure, sure. Whatever you say. Actions speak louder than words, and as for actions you had your teeth right over my neck. I was helpless, you could have easily chomped down. But you didn’t. And that’s nothing new.”

He just shook his head, staring at the ground. Claude was wrong, Claude didn’t _ understand. _

“Hey, look at me.” How could he refuse? Dimitri met Claude’s gaze even as he wanted to hide away, to hide his face and stare at the ground. Claude’s brilliant green eyes held his, utterly serious. “There aren’t many people I trust. Do you remember when I was feverish, while we were captured?”

Dimitri wasn’t sure where Claude was going with this. “That’s not something I could so easily forget. I feared you would freeze to death with how hard you shivered.”

“Don’t you get it? I _ would _ have frozen to death. I would have died. But I didn’t, because of you. I was helpless. You held my life in your hands, literally. Not only did you save my life, you didn’t even use it as a bargaining chip.”

“Goddess Claude! What, did you expect I wouldn’t? Did you expect I would just leave you to suffer?”

“Yes.”

Dimitri paused, his mouth open but no words escaping. Claude was so matter-of-fact about it. 

Claude ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the base of his antlers. “Like I said, I don’t trust many people. No one else I know would have helped me just because they thought it was right. Oh sure, some would have helped me, but they would have held me in their debt. But you? You haven’t even considered it, have you?”

“Wha— Claude, you don’t owe me anything! It was the right thing to do!”

Claude spread his hands as if to say ‘_ this is exactly what I mean’. _

He shook his head. “You think too highly of me.”

Claude rolled his eyes. “And you think too lowly of yourself. Even when you were lost in instinct, you still didn’t hurt me.” Claude pointed to the tear in his uniform that Dimitri had bitten near his neck. “If you were trying to injure me, why stop at my shirt?”

Dimitri repressed a shudder of the memory of doing just that moments earlier. “I think, if I viewed you as prey, I may very well have bitten further.”

Claude hummed, mulling over the idea like it was an interesting topic to speak about over tea and not his _ life. _ “Interesting. Here I thought you pounced on me because you were hungry for my juicy venison ass.”

He groaned into his hands. How Claude could go from completely serious to _ this _ in moments, he would never understand. “Please never say that again. No, I’m not even hungry. Goddess, I’m never eating venison again.”

Claude shrugged. “Hey, Edelgard still eats pheasant. Venison is delicious, even if my current tastebuds disagree.” Claude wiggled his haunch, swishing his small tail. “I’m sure I taste great!”

“You are the least appetizing thing I have ever looked at.”

“Rude!” Claude gave a small laugh. “But I suppose I should be grateful. Please don’t eat me.” At the last sentence, Claude stuck out his lip in a pout, opening his eyes and giving the most pathetic (adorable) set of doe eyes to bare against Dimitri. His ears lower giving him an even sadder look. His lips quivered and the smattering of white freckles only added to his look of ‘I’m too adorable to kill’.

Claude could ask him to do anything and he’d probably do it for that face._ Dangerous. _

Claude just laughed at him, his ears perking back up and his expression returning to normal. “So if you weren’t trying to hunt me, then why?”

Dimitri ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know! I just… wanted to chase you.” He grit the words through his teeth like it was a dirty confession. It was true though, he realized. “The way you wiggled your tail, I just…” 

Claude snapped his fingers. “Ah, like the monastery cats!”

He growled. “Have the monastery cats been bothering you?”

Claude snorted. “No, and if they were, I think I can handle a couple of cats myself. Have you ever taken time to play with the cats in the monastery?”

He shook his head. “I don’t like them.”

“I noticed. What I mean is that they love to chase things. Birds, sure, but sometimes they’ll just pounce on twigs or feathers. Feathers! They love playing with feathers. So I’m guessing…” There was a mischievous glint to Claude’s eyes. Claude wiggled his tail back and forth in an erratic pattern that had Dimitri’s eyes glued. “You think my tail is a toy! How cute.”

He wanted to roll his eyes and call Claude foolish, however he couldn’t seem to drag his eyes away from the swishing of Claude’s tail. If his silence wasn’t enough of a clue, the sudden excited swipe of Dimitri’s own tail gave him away. Claude wiggled his bushy little tail upright, then twitched to the left, then quickly to the right. He lazily drug it back to the left, quickly zipping back to the right, jerking upright and quivering before repeating the same pattern over again.

Dimitri smacked Claude’s tail.

Claude burst into laughter, bringing his hand to his face to cover his forming tears. Dimitri wondered if it was possible for his face to be permanently red.

He cleared his throat a few times. Finally Claude stopped laughing. “So, you decided you needed to chase my tail, then just went into full play-fight mode. That makes a lot of sense, seeing as you didn’t use your claws. Thanks for that, by the way.”

He shook his head. “I wasn’t thinking at all. I just… acted.”

“And what was the licking about?”

Welcome back blush old friend. “I was concerned! You stopped playing— er, stopped fighting back. You were breathing very quickly, I thought you might have ran too much. I… I’m sorry again. I wasn’t thinking. I think I was trying to give you comfort?”

Dimitri wondered if it was possible to die of embarrassment.

  
  


* * *

“Edelgard, that’s enough.”

Edelgard panted. “No… I can… can keep going…” 

Byleth shook her head. “No, you cannot.” Byleth turned to look at the expanse of trees that Claude and Dimitri had raced into. “Claude is built for speed and dexterity. Dimitri for strength and endurance. You are nearly as strong as Dimitri, but your endurance is not.”

Edelgard groaned, but acquiesced to Byleth. Shame twisted her stomach. Her stamina suffered for her new talons. Even worse was the way she was unable to fully tuck her wings away. They were so large that they caught the wind and slowed her down, no matter how small she tried to make them. 

She hadn’t even made it into the forest.

“As soon as you catch your breath, we will try the other side of your mobility.”

Edelgard frowned. “What do you mean by that?”

Byleth pointed to her wings.

Edelgard’s eyes widened. She hadn’t forgotten the wings of course— that would be impossible. Beyond that, there was a sort of tug in her chest. A pull to the sky. But she hadn’t considered trying to fly, not yet at least.

She flexed her wings, looking over her shoulder at them. She spread them as far as they would go, and it felt good. Usually she kept them folded up. Even when she used them there was rarely room indoors for her to give a full stretch. She took a moment just to look at them, to feel the faint breeze blow through them. It was still strange to know they were attached to her. A part of her. She wondered if she would ever fully get used to them.

They were bulky. Slow. She raised them above her head, stretching them towards the heavens. They were heavy. Of course they were— if she had to take a guess, her individual wingspan was over triple her height. Yet they weren’t as heavy as their 30ft diameter would suggest. Hollow bones, if she had to guess. It was the muscles that were the real weight.

The griffon falconer she’d spoken to the day prior had taken care to thoroughly examine her wings. To both their surprise, her wings weren’t similar to a pegasus or griffon’s at all. They didn’t even match with Wyverns. Considering they were the only winged creatures of comparable size, she had originally assumed her wings would work the same way. Not so. Most winged creatures carried a sort of wind magic inherent to them in their wings. Hers… didn’t. At least, not in any detectable way. She found it hard to believe that there was nothing magical about her wings, though whether that was the case or not remained to be seen. Compared to other winged steeds, her wings had significantly more muscle. Beyond that, the muscle extended down her shoulders as well, giving the base of her wings more bulk than they had when they first came out. The griffon falconer hypothesized it was so her wings didn’t rip right off her back. A sobering thought.

Her wings were heavy but they were strong. She gave them an experimental flap. Even at such a slow speed, they kicked up a decent gust of wind. She swallowed, realizing if her wings didn’t give her enough lift, they’d painfully slam into the ground. 

She looked to Byleth. Byleth nodded, the mercenary’s certainty hardening her resolve. She nodded back. Raised her wings.

With a single thrust she brought them down as fast as she could. She choked back a scream as her feet left the ground, her body light like a scrap of paper between the strength of her wings.

Too late she realized she had forgotten to keep flapping.

“Oof!” The air was knocked from her lungs as Byleth caught her. She felt a blush rise, though whether she was embarrassed about falling or embarrassed to be in Byleth’s arms, she could not say.

Byleth steadied her. Then she was ready again, determined not to fail (especially not in front of Byleth).

The second time her feet left the ground was easier than the first. She expected it. The hard part was bringing her wings back to the top of their stroke and down again before she hit the ground. It was harder to lift them without the ground to brace against, but she did it. A second flap, bringing her higher. A third. A fourth. 

It was exhilarating. Laughter bubbled from her lips as she brought herself higher, the motions of her wings easy so long as she didn’t think about them too hard. It was instinct. She looked down at Byleth. Already the mercenary was as small as a mouse. Edelgard’s heart leapt at the small lift on the mercenary's lips. Byleth didn’t smile much, but this look was proud. _ Of her. _

She lost herself in the feeling of flying. She felt _ free. _ Free in a way she had never felt before. She laughed for the sheer joy of laughing. Alone among the wispy clouds and bright sky she loosed a shrill cry, uncaring of how it sounded. In the clouds there was no one to judge her. No one to watch her with all-seeing eyes. She didn’t have to be _ Edelgard, heir to the Empire. _ She was El. She was herself.

She spread her arms and tilted her face to the sun, basking in the warmth as she rose higher. Something in her blood _ sang _ with how right it all felt. The tendrils of ache residing in her chest lifted. It was a longing she never realized was there, but now that it was gone, it left her breathless. A homesickness she had never realized she had harbored until it was gone.

The sky felt like _ home. _ It felt _ safe _ and _ free _ and like a tender hug.

A shiver coursed through her. The sun warmed her skin and the crisp air refreshed her soul. She had eyes only for the blue above her. 

Goosebumps ran along her skin, and Edelgard noticed the white puffs her breath made. The air was very cold, she realized. She looked down and felt her stomach drop out from under her. She was high, _ very high. _ How long had she been flying for? She’d lost track of time…

She was still ascending with each flap. Edelgard focused on her wings, trying to slow her rhythm. She began to drop, too fast and too unstable for her liking, so she returned to the steady but too strong flaps of before. So long as she didn’t focus too hard on what her wings were doing, she could fly just fine. But as soon as she tried to alter that, she lost control. The thought of plummeting out of the sky was enough to keep her strokes as they were.

She felt a bead of sweat drip down her forehead. Her muscles were strong but they had never been used before. Byleth was right about her stamina earlier, she was growing tired. A touch light headed too. Even worse, she realized she had no landing strategy. Perhaps this was not such a good idea after all…

Panic threatened to overwhelm her. Her eyes darted back down to Byleth, now the size of an ant. It was a testament to her new improved eyesight that she could still see Byleth’s expression at all. The mercenary didn’t look worried, which gave her a small drop of calmness.

Byleth was looking up at her, mouthing something, but predictably Edelgard couldn’t hear her. She could see her though. Byleth extended both arms and held them out parallel to the ground. Still and unmoving.

Edelgard tried to translate. She held her arms out like Byleth, but Byleth shook her head to the side. Made a gesture to her back.

_ Her wings? _ Edelgard realized what Byleth was trying to say, stiffly halting her flaps and holding her wings out straight and parallel to the ground. Terror still gnawed at her belly. She really hoped she wouldn’t vomit mid-flight.

Byleth’s suggestion worked. As soon as she stopped flapping, she didn’t fall out of the sky like she feared. Instead she began a slow glide back towards the ground. She sighed in relief. _ Of course. _ She felt foolish for not thinking of the idea herself. She blamed the panic. As an experiment, while she was still high in the sky and had leeway if something went wrong, she relaxed the muscles in her wings as much as she could. Just like she thought, they stayed in place, spread wide on either side of her. The air currents kept them open and out. That was good— she wasn’t sure how much longer the muscles would hold.

The landscape below was beautiful. Breathtaking. _ Goddess, _ she knew her vision had improved, but this… She had to be at least a thousand feet in the air, probably more. Even at that distance she could still see individual leaves on the trees below.

Fódlan spread out before her. Garreg Mach was so small, a blip nestled in the valley of two mountains. Small gnats patrolled the little monastery, the pegasus and wyvern riders. She could spot the little village at the base of the mountain. Even further she could make out the vague shape of Remire Village. 

The world spread out before her. The horizon swallowed the furthest reaches of her sight in hazy blue. In front of her was Leicester. Turning her head to the right was Adrestria, and to the left was Faerghus. From so high, it all looked so small. There were no borders. Just… land. _ Fódlan. _

She was eye level with one of the shorter peaks of the Oghma mountain range. It would be easy to fly to the peak of all the mountains, she realized. She didn’t know how it was for most pegasus or wyverns, but knew such a flight wasn’t supposed to be this easy. There was a reason the Oghma mountains were considered nearly impassible. Few flying mounts were strong enough to fly to the peak of one of the mountains in a reasonable timeframe. Was it easier for her because she had no rider, or were her wings just that much more powerful?

The mountain peaks still had snow. The spring melt would soon melt the rest, but for now she enjoyed the sight. It reminded her of the winter she spent in Fhirdiad with Dimitri. Perhaps next time she flew, she would fly to the mountain peak and bring back some snow. She giggled at the thought of pelting Dimitri and Claude with snowballs despite the late spring months. Had Claude even seen snow? Almyra wasn’t known for cold weather, nor were the Leicester territories. She would need to strengthen her wings though. The muscles in her back burned, and she wasn’t even using them anymore.

She brought her eyes back down to the ground. She looked directly down, expecting to see Byleth and instead saw forest. Looking behind her, she realized she was gliding forward a lot faster than downwards. She had barely descended at all. If she continued gliding forward like this, she would be in the sky for hours. How far would she travel? She might be able to glide all the way to Enbarr like this. No, she could _ easily _glide all the way to Enbarr. She might be able to make it all the way to Brigid.

She shivered. As beautiful as the view was, she didn’t want to stay in the sky for the rest of the night.

_ Now to learn how to dive… Goddess protect me… _

  
  


* * *

  
  


Claude ran side by side with Dimitri. They had done as Byleth requested— crossed the plains, through the forest, across the creek and back again. The creek had been easier than he thought it would be. Much like his running abilities, his jumps were much longer now. He crossed the narrow stream with a single running jump. Now that Dimitri was running on all fours, he managed to do the same (which was a shame, Claude had wanted to see him dunked into the water).

He had to admit— he was having a great time. Even including Dimitri’s little slip earlier. It felt so good to stretch his legs. By now his muscles were sore. Before he had deer legs though, he would have been down for the count miles ago. It was nice to finally have something his hooves were good at. Though his legs were sore, he wasn’t winded. Claude had a hunch that his lungs might not be exactly the same as they used to be… he planned to ask Manuela at some point. Even Dimitri was panting, though he wasn’t flagging.

And wasn’t that a surprise? Dimitri ran at his side, keeping up. Claude was pretty sure if it was a straight up sprinting race, he’d still beat Dimitri. But Dimitri would give him a run for his money (literally). As soon as Dimitri let go and just let his instincts run for him, it became clear why he hadn’t been faster earlier. 

It _ was _ a little silly though. Claude made running on all fours look graceful. Dimitri looked like a wild animal, a predator ready to attack. It went to show how much he’d come to innately trust Dimitri that he felt no fear or unease from him. That pesky little instinct had been an annoying realization. Claude knew he was paranoid, but this whole _ prey _ business really put his skittish behavior into a new perspective.

But that was fine. Deer might be prey, but they still gore unsuspecting hunters.

Dimitri inched in front of Claude, taking the lead in their unofficial race. They weren’t truly racing— if one of them got too far ahead of the other, they waited. But like this, it was fun. Dimitri ducked under a fallen log, Claude opting to bound above it. Claude’s mind was already racing with ideas for battlefield synergies. Nevermind the fact that he still hadn’t fired a bow in his altered body— he was bursting with ideas.

Dodge a boulder, leap over a stump, sidestep a bush. His hooves felt at home atop the forest floor, each step sure and certain before he even had a chance to think about it. The animal instincts had their pros along with the cons.

His ear twitched, picking up the sound of… something. His hearing was so much more sensitive than before. He was finding that things he had once thought silent sometimes had unique noises to go with them. It was taking time to be able to parse them all— he was relearning an entire sense.

He slowed to a stop in the middle of a small glade, perking his ears. He heard Dimitri’s panting, heard his stuttering steps as he noticed Claude stop. He heard bird cries and skittering of critters, shifting of branches and creaks of the forest.

The sound was a… humming? Buzzing? He couldn’t think of a word to describe the subtle whir. It reminded him of the sound a really big book made just before it fell onto the floor. Not the crash, but the quiet _ whoosh _ that came before the crash. There was a hint of a whistle mixed in.

Claude took a second to think about that. _ Large falling object. _ He tilted his ears upwards. _ Mm, yes, the sound is coming from above. And… getting closer? _

Claude yanked his head to look at the sky just in time to see a black mass shooting towards them at an alarming speed. Larger than arrow, smaller than a house. Getting larger. Logic and annoying instinct dictated that he should dart out of the glade and back into the cover of the trees. Curiosity however demanded he figure out what the black mass falling from the sky was.

He was rewarded when the black thing expanded, the sharp dive slowing as familiar black wings spread wide. Twin spears of bright red legs and talons made it easy to identify Edelgard.

“Dimitri, look!” He gestured up, as if Dimitri wasn’t already looking at the sky too. Then Claude noticed the absolute _ shit-eating grin _ on the former-imperial princess. He didn’t even know her face was capable of making that expression. He did some split second math at her trajectory, but it was too late.

He tried to take a step to the side, to leap out of the way, but his realization came too late.

Edelgard crashed into them both.

  
  


* * *

  
  


If grooming was to become a nightly occurrence, Edelgard couldn’t find it in herself to begrudge that.

Claude’s deft hands were heaven as he preened through her feathers. He picked up on the rhythm to it fast. He smoothed the mess of her feathers, organizing them into a natural streamline. He untangled the fine barbs along her feathers, straightening them out. Then he dipped his fingers into the wing oil and zipped the feather nice and straight. For only practicing the night before, he was already adept at handling her feathers.

It was soothing. Really, she couldn’t blame Dimitri for the way he would lean into Claude’s touch when he scratched behind his ears. She understood the urge now.

It was good that Claude had been so insistent in making sure she preened, whether it was by his hands or her own. The persistent itch in her wings had been bothering her, but she hadn’t realized how much they _ ached _until the ache was gone. 

While Claude worked on her wings she did the smaller feathers lining her forearms and thighs. They went much faster than her wings, thankfully. Perhaps she should have been embarrassed having shed her shorts, sitting in her smallclothes to pluck at her thigh feathers. But then, it was nothing the two boys hadn’t seen before from their time together in their cell. Beyond that, her feathers covered her skin anyways.

Neither Claude nor Dimitri were embarrassed either, which was nice. A bit surprising in Dimitri’s case (she had assumed he would flush red, but he hadn’t given a second glance). Really, it felt like… 

It felt like…

A surge of grief cleaved through her chest. She paused her preening, her mind recalling an old memory.

She had been young. At the time she only had eight other siblings, the last two still yet to be born. She’d been the second youngest at the time. All nine of them sprawled out on the floor, sharing blankets and warmth.

She grappled with the foggy memory, begging it not to slip away. It had been cold that year. One of the only times she could remember snow in Enbarr. It was rare for all of her siblings to be in one place. There must have been a special occasion for them to forsake their beds.

She tried to remember. It was hard— she must have been four or five at the time. A lifetime ago. One of her older sisters had made her hair into a pretty braid. She remembered now. She had loved the braid, refusing to take it out for three straight days. It hurt that she couldn’t remember which sister it had been.

She remembered the smell of cinnamon and smoke. One of her brothers had made a fire in the fireplace for warmth. He had strung a pot of apple cider over the flames. He had placed a warm mug in her hands, telling her to wait before she drank. She hadn’t listened, and she had burned her tongue.

She remembered. It had been the night before Saint Cichol Day. Her eldest brother had come to her room in the dead of night, shaking her out of bed. He’d carried her down where the others had set up a bed of soft blankets.

It had been a long time since she had thought about her siblings in any happy context.

It hurt to remember. It was so much easier to be angry, to turn that anger into resolve. To only remember the injustice that had been done to her family, and not _ why _ the injustice hurt. It was so much easier to push the memories of her siblings away. To pretend she had always been an only child. To numb her heart. To push away both the good and the bad, to forget what she had lost.

She didn’t want to forget this memory again.

She clenched fingers around small black feathers. Claude’s hands weaved through her wings, a tender and gentle reminder. She could hear the soft sound of Dimitri brushing Claude’s fur. She’d promised Dimitri she would comb his mane as soon as she finished with her small feathers.

She remembered how a lifetime ago she would comb through her youngest sister’s hair. When they had shared chestnut colored hair, not the white she bore now.

What about this had sparked that buried memory?

She knew the answer. She didn’t want to admit the answer, not even to herself. She wasn’t sure if the pain her realization brought was a happy pain or a sad pain. Both, maybe. Tears welled in her eyes. She refused to cry.

She had already lost ten siblings. _ Was she really willing to set herself up to lose two more? _

It didn’t matter. Somehow, Dimitri and Claude managed to break through every one of her defensive walls. She already thought of them as…

The realization didn’t hurt as much as she thought it would. The old grief still rang through her hollow chest, but it didn’t get any worse either.

Dimitri had already been her step-brother for years, even if she refused to acknowledge it. Now though, it was hard to think of him as anything _ but _her brother. Claude too. She had only known him for a few weeks at best, yet it felt like she had always known him.

Two brothers.

They couldn’t replace what she’d lost, couldn’t fill the gaping hole those months chained under Enbarr had made. But that was okay. She didn’t want that hole to be filled. She wasn’t replacing her old siblings.She closed her eyes and basked in the comfortable silence. This was something she had refused to acknowledge, but now it surged like an unstoppable tide. She wouldn’t ignore it anymore: _ She had missed this. _

She missed the quiet peace she once shared with her siblings. She missed the way her sisters would do each other’s hair. She missed her brothers playful antics. She missed running through the palace halls, chasing and being chased even though they weren’t supposed to run indoors. She missed the gentle way her eldest brother would hold her whenever she had nightmares. She missed how one of her brothers always tried to catch her unaware and snip parts of her hair off. She missed how her youngest sister would toddle by her side.

She missed having a family.

The grief in her chest softened. Instead of a block of ice, it was a mountain of hard-packed snow. The warmth of Claude at her back and Dimitri by her side was like sunlight warming the snow. A small amount, just a tiny portion, sloughed away and melted.

She felt more at peace than she ever had.

Claude plucked a loose feather. It stung a little, but it didn’t hurt. The Griffon Falconer had warned her she would likely lose many feathers in her first month. Claude paused his movements, examining the feather in his hand.

“Hey, Dimitri?”

“Mmm? Yes Claude?”

Claude hummed, holding her feather up to candlelight. “Do you think this feather is more of an onyx black or a charcoal black?”

“Claude, you know I don’t know the… difference… between…” Dimitri trailed off. Edelgard turned her head to watch as Dimitri’s eyes obediently trailed after the feather Claude danced through the air. “Claude, I’m not… falling for that…” Despite his words, he was visibly clenching his hands in his lap. His eyes dilated.

“Falling for what? Isn’t this just the prettiest feather Dimitri?”

“Claude, what are you doing?” Edelgard asked.

Claude just winked at her.

A few moments later, Dimitri hunched his head down and raised his shoulders. He shifted his legs, wiggling a little as he focused on the feather. Claude froze, his eyes jerking to her. “Uh, I think I miscalcACK—!”

Dimitri pounced at the feather in Claude’s hands, meaning he pounced at Claude too. The two began wrestling on the floor, Claude desperately trying to keep the feather out of Dimitri’s reach despite the other being literally on top of him. Edelgard brought a hand to cover the smile forming on her lips.

After a few misses for the feather, Dimitri gave a low growl and a lash of his tail. He blinked, seeming to come back to himself in the moment. Then he smirked.

Claude wiggled the feather again. “Giving up?”

Dimitri’s smirk only grew. Claude was still pinned under Dimitri. Then Dimitri shifted his focus, entirely too quick for Claude to react. Dimitri turned around and bit down on Claude’s tail.

“Yeow!” Claude yelped, his hooves scrabbling uselessly at the wood as he tried to wiggle his way out from under Dimitri. “Dimitri!” Claude whined.

Edelgard didn’t even try to stop the laugh that spilled from her lips. Dimitri gave a chuff, Claude’s tail still clenched between his teeth. It was easy to see Dimitri had only nipped at Claude.

Dimitri gave a yelp of his own as Claude reached out and roughly grabbed Dimitri’s own tail. “What’s wrong, deer got your tail?”

In reply, Dimitri nibbled on Claude’s tail again.

“Ow!”

Edelgard gave another watery laugh, shaking her head. “You’re both idiots,” she didn’t bother hiding the fondness in her tone.

“Yeah, but we’re _ your _ idiots! Take some responsibility for us, Edel!” Claude swung his head back to grin at her, the smile slipping off his face as soon as they made eye contact. “You’re crying.”

Dimitri’s face snapped to her, his expression one of panic.

She sniffed, wiping the tears from her cheeks. She hadn’t even noticed. “Claude… instead of calling me Edel, you can just call me El. If you so please.”

Claude cocked his head, his expression still uncertain. “I thought that was Dimitri’s nickname for you?”

Edelgard shook her head. “It’s what my parents and closest siblings used to call me when I was little. Now the only ones left to call me that is my father and Dimitri.” She wiped another set of tears away. “Forgive me. It has been a very long time since… well, since I felt I had family.”

“El…” Dimitri murmured.

Claude’s face fell into an expression of gentle understanding. His lips curled into the most genuine smile she had ever seen from him. It was a small smile, so different from the one he paraded around on a daily basis. He looked happy. “El it is, then. I’m glad I’m not the only one who felt that, well…” Claude looked away, vulnerable in a way he rarely expressed.

Dimitri rolled off of Claude. He wrapped her in a hug. “Family…” he said with awe. “That’s what this is. Of course it is…” he huffed a small laugh. “I’ve been trying to figure out why I felt so… It’s been so long since I’ve had…”

Claude inserted himself beside Dimitri, joining the hug. “I’ve never had siblings before. You two gotta show me the ropes.” Claude gave a wink, but his smile was still genuine.

Edelgard snorted. “You’ve done a great job of being the little brother so far.”

“Hey!” Claude said with mock offense, “Dimitri’s younger than I am!”

Edelgard’s chest felt light. 

“You know, back home we have a term for siblings-not-by-blood.” It was uncommon for Claude to talk about things from Almyra without prodding. There was a ting of nervousness to his words that he always got when he opened up about his native culture. But his small smile never slipped from his face. “It roughly translates to bond-sibiling, and…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FLUFF! ALL THE FLUFF! Probably my favorite chapter so far. Based part of the flying scene with Edelgard on my own Skydiving adventure haha. Though my eyesight is terrible… gah I’ve been so excited to post this chapter, y’all have no idea. I didn’t really mean to pair Claude&Dimitri and Edelgard&Byleth, but that’s just how it naturally came about. What can I say. I haven’t changed my stance on shipping for this fic— it’s going to remain platonic (obviously, from the last section lol). But feel free to wear shipping goggles at your own leisure. I was actually planning on another nightmare scene at the end but… I just couldn’t do it.
> 
> Byleth: Claude can train in cavalry… Edelgard in Flying…  
Edelgard has reached D+ in Faith!  
Claude has reached D+ in Faith!  
Dimitri has reached D+ in cavalry!  
Byleth, squinting:... huh, that wasn’t in the goal sheet.
> 
> Dimitri: I’m a monster! I attacked Claude!  
Claude: Hold up Dimitri. You don’t have all the facts.  
Dimitri: What facts?  
Claude: That I love you.  
(alt)  
Claude: Haha who can blame you, everyone wants a piece of this succulent ass  
Dimitri:... why are you like this


	8. Hey babe, let's bond over our shared interest in chess and crippling trust issues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow feels like it's been a decade since I last posted. Took a week off for the holidays, started writing for a different fic, and also got hit with some serious writers block for this chapter. I ended up scrapping a whole section. I rewrote the second half of the first section four whole times before getting anything readable. Bleh. BUT! It's done! Huzza!

**Tuesday, 6th of Harpstring Moon **

**(Evening)**

Dimitri ran a hand through his hair, feeling greasy and tired. There was a pressure just behind his eyes, the kind that spoke of a pressing need to sleep. The day had been long and exhausting. Class was still an agony to force himself through— he’d been back at Garreg Mach for five days already and yet the unease he felt without El and Claude still haunted him. 

At least his classmates were finally warming up to him, if only a little. Ingrid was still trying to give him space. Sylvain still had some sort of odd, hidden agenda that Dimitri couldn’t parse for the life of him. Dedue was still walking on eggshells around him, but was otherwise a calming and steadfast presence. Ashe was still intimidated by him, or perhaps he was afraid of stepping out of propriety. Annette was still uncomfortable around him, often fumbling her words. Felix and Mercedes were a breath of normality in everything, though Felix still sneered at him.

It was a work in progress.

“I’m going to do some studying in the library. Gotta make up for lost time,” Claude said. “Don’t feel obligated to join me though.”

Dimitri felt his ears droop of their own accord. “Do you wish to be alone?” He cursed himself for how clingy he was. It was perfectly normal for Claude to want some distance— other than in class, the three of them were never apart. “We can give you some space…” 

Claude gave a sharp jerk of his head. “No!” He coughed, looking away. “What I mean is, no, this isn’t a cry for space. Figured I’d give either of you an excuse for some time alone, if you wanted it. That’s all.”

“Very considerate,” El murmured, her smile amused. “I think a nice session in the library sounds relaxing.”

“I agree. There’s a few things I wanted to look up myself.”

Claude’s grin turned genuine. “Perfect! Phew, gotta say, I wasn’t really looking forward to going to the library alone.” He pitched his voice into a mocking tone. “I hear it’s haaaaaaaunted~ oOoOoOooo… But the ghosts only appear if no one else is around.” He winked.

Dimitri swallowed thickly, thinking of his own ghosts. They kept their distance now, but when he was alone… not so much.

“Oh? Claude, were you afraid to go to the library alone?” El teased.

Claude clasped his hands on both sides of his face. “Ah! You caught me! My biggest fear—” he slumped forward, throwing his chest over El’s shorter shoulders. His torso hung limply as he put his full weight onto El, causing her to stumble. She squawked in surprise, her wings flared out as she regained her balance, lightly smacking Dimitri on accident. “—the haunted library! AH! Sooooo scary!”

El jerked into a firmer stance. “Hm, if you’re so afraid…” El turned and ducked down. By kneeling, she caused Claude to throw out his own hands as he tried to regain his balance before he pitched forward. He didn’t have the chance to fall. El grabbed the barrel of his deer-chest, scooped him up in her arms. She flipped him in one smooth motion, carrying him bridal-style. 

Dimitri threw back his head and laughed at the sight. Claude flailed all four legs. Being held in El’s arms, however, his legs met nothing but air. Despite being much taller than El (and quadruped to boot, making him much longer as well,) El gave no outward strain at holding Claude.

“Why’re you both so freakishly strong,” Claude whined. He stopped flailing, relaxing and curling up in El’s arms. He tucked his legs against himself and crossed his arms, pouting. Claude could protest and deny it until he was blue in the face, but they all knew Claude enjoyed being held (even if his pride didn’t).

Dimitri patted Claude’s head. “Why, to protect you, of course!” Dimitri flashed a noble smile, feeling a bit silly as he struck a pose. He was rewarded with two snorts. Claude’s pout melted into a smile.

“Indeed. What sort of wicked people would we have to be, to leave you to face the _ haunted library _ all on your own?”

Claude threw an arm over his face. “My heroes! Thank the Gods, I won’t have to face the evil ghastly _ ghost books _ with the both of you by my side! The _ Ghost BOOks! _ I’d be _ aghast _ on my own!”

“I’ll drop you.”

“C’mon, where’s your _ spirit?” _

Dimitri shoved his fist against his mouth, trying to stifle his laughter. El shot him a mild glare. “Only you would find his awful jokes funny.”

“Don’t listen to her Dimitri, I’m hilarious!”

As they made their way to the library, El placed Claude back on the ground a bit reluctantly. Out of the three of them, she was the least obviously clingy. Still, there were times like this where it was just as palpable of a need for her as it was for him. Claude, ever observant, picked up on it. He hooked an arm around her neck and Dimitri’s, walking between them. If El noticed how he leaned into Claude’s side, she didn’t mention it— just as he didn’t mention her doing the same.

The library was mostly empty. Tucked into a dark corner, Dimitri spotted Annette, Lysithea, and… Sylvain? Peering closer, ready to intervene if Sylvain was making a fool of himself, Dimitri was surprised to realize Sylvain was _ actually _ studying. Muttering under his breath and squinting at a book of magical theory of all things. 

At their entrance, the small study group looked up to greet them. Annette tucked a quick bow of her head towards him. Lysithea rolled her eyes, not even looking up from her book. Sylvain leaned back in a stretch, tossing a languid wave.

Dimitri heard Claude snicker and he wondered if it was too late to retire for the night.

“Well well, what do we have here?” Claude plodded up to the trio, mischief in his eyes. Dimitri exchanged a long-suffering glance with El. El, ever the wise one of the group, ignored Claude’s mischief and began browsing the shelves.

“Claude. If you don’t have anything important to say, leave us be. Unlike you, _ some _ of us actually have studying to do.” Lysithea was doing her best to drill a hole in Claude’s head with her glare.

“You’re touchy tonight, yeesh. Grumpy from being up past your bedtime? Growing kiddos need their sleep, you know.”

Lysithea seethed, grabbing a book and rearing her arm back to chuck it at Claude. Annette fell over herself to stop Lysithea, Sylvain casually plucking the tome out of her hands.

“U-uh, hi Claude! Nice night, huh?” Annette squeaked, pushing a hand against Lysithea’s mouth.

Claude smirked. “A very nice night, sure. So I gotta know, are you three studying magic theory together, or did you two little ladies fall for Gautier’s charm?”

“No no, it’s not like that!” Annette cried, her face going red.

“As if this _ oaf _ has anything charming about him,” Lysithea growled.

“Hey, I’m sitting right here, you know…”

“We’re just studying, I swear,” Annette mumbled.

Dimitri padded up beside Claude. “I’m glad to see you taking your studies more seriously Sylvain. However, as reluctant as I am to be skeptical towards your good behavior, magic isn’t exactly your subject…” He had to stop himself from scrunching his face as a waft of air hit his nose. Sylvain was wearing cologne. With Dimitri’s new sense of smell, it was uncomfortably strong.

Sylvain shrugged. “Well, you aren’t wrong. But there’s so much more appeal to any subject when it’s being taught by two lovely ladies.” Sylvain wiggled his eyebrows.

Dimitri didn’t get the chance to scold him, Lysithea and Annette beating him to the punch. Annette struck Sylvain over the head with a rolled up parchment. Lysithea struck his pride with her sharp words. “Oh, like you weren’t begging for our help two hours ago. Remember what I said about flirting?”

Sylvain gave a nervous chuckle. “Ehehe… that you’d set my hair on fire?”

“Want to test me?”

“Your Highness, don’t listen to Sylvain. He’s actually really good at this stuff. He’s a natural!” Annette spoke up in his defense.

Sylvain waved a hand. “I mean, it’s easy. Entry level stuff, nothing to be proud of. Anyone could do it in their sleep— ow! Annette!”

Annette gave her best attempt at a glare, hitting Sylvain over the head again. “I told you to stop saying that! It took me years to learn how to do this, and you’re picking it up like it’s nothing!” She turned to Dimitri. “The book he’s on right now is second-year material.”

“Hey now, it’s not—”

“He is actually decent at this,” Lysithea interrupted.

“Decent?” Claude shook his head. “You must be a hidden genius at magic Gautier, that’s the best compliment I’ve heard Lysithea give anyone. Like, ever.”

Sylvain groaned. “Whatever, say what you want. It’s all just logic, it’s not that har—” he glanced at Annette and cleared his throat, “I mean, I’ve just had two lovely teachers, is all.” He flapped a hand through the air. “It’s like chess, and chess is like, one of the only things I’m good at.”

Lysithea gave him a slow blink. “Magic is like… chess?”

_ “Chess? _ You’ve lost me, Sylvain,” Annette muttered.

He winked. “Both magic and chess have black and white.” Annette whacked him with the parchment again. He was unfazed. “Hey, rude! Look, in chess you’ve got to pay attention to the whole board. There’s a lot to keep track of. Each piece has its own rules on how they behave, kinda like sigils do. Move one piece on a chessboard and bam! The whole game can shift in an instant. Magic’s the same way.”

Dimitri felt his eyebrows hit his hairline. “I’ll admit, I’ve never heard of magic referred to in such a light… but it makes an odd kind of sense?”

Annette was slack jawed. “Hwuh? Sylvain, you did the thing again! The thing where you say something weirdly smart.”

“Ouch, was that supposed to be a complement?”

“Idiot. You make magic sound far more flexible than it is— it’s nothing like a _ child’s _ game,” Lysithea sneered. “Magic isn’t some toy, laid out on a two dimensional grid. It’s far more complex than that.”

“Actually, I think he’s right. Performing a spell on the fly requires the ability to adapt on the fly— just like in chess! Oh, and…”

Lysithea and Annette got into a debate over how similar magic was to chess. Sylvain shot Dimitri a distressed look. “Uh, I was just bullshitting nonsense…”

The two didn’t hear him.

“Chess, huh?” Claude said with a knowing look. Dimitri recognized the feigned lazy lilt of his eyelids, as if he could hide the way his eyes analyzed everything so intensely. “Didn’t know you were a chess guy.”

Sylvain shot Claude back an equally recognizable look. Where Claude let his eyelids slide down halfway over his eyes, Sylvain was the opposite. Sylvain tilted his head to the side and grinned, his eyes gleaming with his usually hidden intelligence. “I dabble. Why, you play?”

“Now and then. It’s been a while though, I’m a bit rusty. Haven’t had a partner to play with in the monastery.” Claude winked. “It’s so hard to find anyone interested. Hm, maybe you’d be willing to lend me a hand?”

“I’d be happy to play a few games with you, Claude,” Dimitri piped in. “You should have said something.”

Claude’s narrow gaze shifted to him and softened. He huffed something fond, and patted Dimitri’s shoulder. “D’aww, how sweet of you.”

“What about me, Your Highness?” Sylvain whined. “We used to play all the time, but you won’t even give me the time of day anymore.”

Dimitri rolled his eyes. “That’s because you trounce me every time. It’s pointless to get out the board if you beat me in three turns.”

“C’mon, that was only one time. I said I was sorry.”

“Ooo, beat in three turns Dimitri? That’s rough buddy,” Claude snickered. “I have to admit I’m curious to see if you’re that good, or if Dimitri’s just that bad.”

Dimitri looked at the floor so Claude wouldn’t see his mildly offended pout. He knew Claude would only be amused by it.

“Nah, Dimitri’s pretty decent. I’m just that good.” Sylvain winked. “Looks like we’ll have to play! I’ll be defending your honor, Your Highness.” Sylvain gave a bow, somewhat ruined by the smirk he wore.

“You, me, the gardens, tomorrow after class?” Claude leaned forward in the conspiratorial way of his. “We could be great together.”

“So forward! I’m never one to turn down a pretty face.” Sylvain leaned forward and batted his eyelashes. “Just the two of us? Scandalous. I thought you were attached at the hip with His Highness and the lovely Princess.”

Claude winked. “I thought you were attached at the hip with Felix. Looks like we’re both cheating.”

“That so? I don’t see Felix anywhere, do you?” Sylvain lowered his eyelids and brought his voice to a low whisper. “Don’t worry, he doesn’t have to know.”

“Felix hates chess, why would he care?” Dimitri frowned as he glanced between the two schemers. “And Claude, why would you say you’re going to cheat?”

Claude cooed at him and patted his head. He glared, flattening his ears. “Sweet sweet innocent Dimitri. It’s a wonder so much goes over your head, what with the fact that you grew up around Sylvain.”

“Alas, and against my best efforts! His Highness is just too pure to be swayed.”

Dimitri stifled a flinch at being referred to as ‘pure’ in any stretch. “You two are a menace. Perhaps Felix and I should chaperone— the monastery will surely be set aflame by the end of tomorrow between the two of you.” Dimitri felt a shudder run down his spine at the thought.

“You’re welcome to _ try.” _ Claude’s grin was downright predatory. “If you do though, I think you might find an annoying string of interruptions, distractions, and manifested chaos blocking your path.”

Sylvain snapped his fingers. “I see it now! Your Highness, no need to feel shy. Are you worried you’ll be lonely without your cutesy teddy-deer to snuggle tomorrow? Don’t worry, I’ll send some lovely maidens your way.”

“Do not.” _ Oh Goddess, there’s two of them. _

Claude belted out a chuckle at Dimitri’s suffering. Annette and Lysithea finally finished their debate, and quickly forced Sylvain’s attention back to studying. Not before Claude left with a quip of his own.

“It’s getting a bit late. Shouldn’t you be heading to bed, Lysithea? I’m pretty sure it’s past your bedtime.” Sometimes, Dimitri wondered how Claude could be so paranoid yet have such a lack of self-preservation.

Predictably, Lysithea’s anger zeroed in on Claude. “Excuse me? Honestly, would it kill you to act with an ounce of maturity?”

“I’m plenty mature!” How Claude managed _ that _ lie with a straight face, Dimitri couldn’t say. “It’s _ very _ mature to go to bed early. Common sense, really.”

Lysithea just glared. “Duly noted. Now, will you leave? You’re annoying.”

“You can’t just say that!” Annette squeaked, tugging on Lysithea’s arm.

“Why can’t I? It’s the truth.” Lysithea stare was making Dimitri sweat, and she wasn’t even looking at him. “Claude’s annoying, immature, and always wastes other people’s valuable time. He’s a bothersome fool that doesn’t know when to quit.”

Annette made a choking sound. She looked a bit pale. “B-but, he’s, y’know…” 

“Wow, are all the Golden Deer like this?” Sylvain rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s a lack of decorum I would expect from Felix.”

Claude was still unaffected by Lysithea’s glare. “That’s the Alliance for you. Nice and casual. Minus Lorenz— he’s got a stick up his ass, or something. He’ll still insult me to my face any day though, just with fussy decorum. Oh, sorry Lysithea. I shouldn’t say bad words like ‘ass’ in front of a kid.”

“Like I haven’t heard worse. Must you be so insufferable?”

“What’s wrong, Lysithea? I never said _ who _ the kid was. Are you saying that’s you? Maybe I was referring to innocent Annette, but if you admit—”

“Don’t you have studying of your own to do?!”

“Sure, sure. But it’s a house leader’s duty to make sure one’s house is always in tip-top shape. I’m just looking out for you. If you don’t get enough sleep, you’ll never grow big and strong.”

“Uh-huh.”

Claude shook his head, sighing. He turned to Dimitri. “Well, I tried.” He turned and started to trot away. “There’s three of them. I’m sure the library ghost won’t get them… eh, maybe,” he muttered to himself, loudly.

Dimitri watched Lysithea’s face rapidly turn white. She whipped around to look at Annette and Sylvain. “Wait, there’s no library ghost, right? Haha, that’d be foolish. Ghosts aren’t real. Aha.”

Annette’s expression flipped. “W-well, Mercedes did mention… um, one time she mentioned a ghost story about a library…”

Dimitri watched Sylvain’s ‘up-to-no-good’ smirk unfurl before being quickly hidden behind a serious expression. “Nah, don’t listen to Claude.”

Dimitri sighed, internally feeling a little proud of his old friend for not teasing the other two. He opened his mouth to comment but was interrupted as Claude returned, tugging him away. “C’mon, research time!” He indulged Claude and let himself be pulled away.

_ (Being pulled away by Claude, he didn’t hear as Sylvain continued. “Don’t listen to Claude, because he got the story wrong. It’s not a library ghost, it’s a book ghost—” _

_ “What?!”) _

Dimitri shuffled over to a bookshelf a ways away. “Sylvain is sharper than he likes to present himself,” Dimitri warned in a low whisper. “He’ll want something from you tomorrow, I’m certain.”

“Oh I noticed,” Claude said, amused. “Your concern is cute, but also unnecessary.”

Dimitri made a facial expression that wasn’t a pout, no matter what Claude claimed. “I’m not cute.”

In response, Claude gave his ears a few scritches. He didn’t stop glaring (it was a glare, not a pout) but he did tilt his head down and towards Claude so he could reach better.

“Ah, Lord Claude! The library wasn’t the same without you, Your Grace.” Tomas greeted, smile lit across his face.

“Tomas, I’ve told you, just Claude is fine.” Claude waved a flippant hand. “What can I say? Not even death can keep me away from a good library.”

Tomas clapped Claude’s forearm and gave a pat. “I’m glad to see you’re alright, lad. Blessed by the Goddess to boot! My, you must have some interesting tales to tell.”

Claude chuckled, shaking his head. “Oh, nothing so interesting. The story would bore you right to sleep.”

Dimitri frowned, a familiar scent hitting his nose. It was faint, very faint. He couldn’t place where he knew it from. He shrugged it off. His nose was still frazzled from Sylvain’s overwhelming cologne (he would be smelling Sylvain’s cologne for the rest of the night, he was certain).

“I’m not so sure. I’m always happy to hear new stories.” Tomas’ face fell. “I do have to ask, however. The evildoer that kidnapped you, is he truly dead? I know the Archbishop said he was, however…” Tomas lowered his voice. “The church is not always so forthcoming with things that could damage their image.”

“Very dead,” Dimitri growled. 

Tomas clasped his hands together. “Ah, that is good to hear. I must admit, even the possibility that such a fiend might still be around to prey on the weak… why, it kept me up at night! Now, is there anything I can help you two find? I know this library like the back of my hand.”

Dimitri nodded. “I’m looking for a book on the history of the Archbishop’s family line, actually. Do you have anything like that?”

Tomas hummed, peering at him with a thoughtful look. “An interesting subject. I think I might have something helpful, yes. Let me go get it.”

Dimitri padded over to the corner that El had taken to nesting in. She lifted her wings in invitation without even looking up from her book. He took a seat beside her.

“History on the family of the archbishop, huh?” Claude prodded.

Dimitri nodded, keeping his voice low. “Surely you remember the Archbishop mentioning her ‘family tradition’ yesterday. It got me thinking— I don’t know that she has a family.”

El scoffed, her voice only audible to their enhanced hearing. “Of course she doesn’t. She’s been maintaining her position since the death of the King of Liberation.”

Claude just hummed, a sure sign that he had complicated thoughts on the subject.

Tomas passed by and handed an old and dusty book to Dimitri. He nodded his thanks. The book was noticeably thin. _ ‘Goddess Chosen: Archbishops of the Central Church’ _was inscribed in plain lettering on the cover.

Claude rested his head on Dimitri’s shoulder, apparently content to read the same book as Dimitri. At Dimitri’s raised eyebrow, he shrugged. “I’m interested in whatever this is. Tomas tends to have interesting things in his collection. Also… Eheh, I have too many late books checked out to get any new ones. I’m not about to risk the wrath of a librarian, even one as nice as Tomas.”

The largest section of the book was at the start, all on deeds of Saint Seiros. Most of it consisted of things he either already knew or had details left too vague to be useful. The book was sparse with information and packed with useless filler.

“It’s not filler, it’s propaganda,” Claude grouched when Dimitri voiced his thoughts. El gave a hum of agreement.

_ Ah, to be friends with two heretics. _

The only useful tidbit was on Saint Seiros’ long life— she lived a life as comparably long as the Ten Elites. Running the math in his head, it made sense. Saint Seiros had been around and already established to help found the Empire of Adrestria, back in Imperial Year 0. Yet Nemesis wasn’t killed until 91 IY. The book listed her ‘official’ death in 188 IY, just three years after the completion of Garreg Mach.

The book stated that Saint Seiros was succeeded by her only daughter, Archbishop Ouranos. Dimitri was annoyed to find that the book had few solid dates listed— he wondered if there was any record available about the birth and death dates of the archbishops. It would be nice to at _ least _ have something that listed the tenor of the archbishops.

Most of the archbishops only left office when they ‘died’, to be conveniently succeeded by a daughter. With sudden clarity he realized how suspicious it was. The book claimed it the will of the Goddess. Every follower of the Church knew the archbishop was chosen by the Goddess— before El convinced him that Lady Rhea was Saint Seiros, he believed that excuse. He never questioned it. He never even _ thought _to question it. It just made sense— that was the way it was. 

It was less of a stretch to believe the Goddess had a personal hand in the line of archbishops than to believe it was actually the same woman over and over. Looking at it now with as unbiased a perspective as he could manage, the excuse felt embarrassingly flimsy. Any simple explanation was more believable than the truth, though.

Many of the archbishops were similar to each other. To be expected, considering they were technically the same person. Kind, wise, benevolent. The interesting thing he noticed was that most had a quirk or two to distinguish them. The third archbishop, Lady Soteria, adopted over 50 children during her reign. Archbishop Eos was known to always ride a pegasus into battle, known for her love of the sky. Archbishop Lyssa led the church after the Dagdan invasion claimed the life of the previous archbishop, Lady Keres, and was known for her righteous fury and holy rage.

Most interesting was the eleventh archbishop. Archbishop Irthir was the only male leader of the church. He succeeded his sister, Archbishop Hybris, after she was mortally wounded during the Crescent War. 

Dimitri stared at the passage. He’d never heard of an acting archbishop dying in that manner. The book stated that Lady Hybris died at the hands of a group of ‘rogue’ Kingdom soldiers that feared she would rule in favor of Leicester’s split. Faerghus killed the acting archbishop. He never knew that… The book had a section of speculation that the episcopicide was one of the defining factors that had the Church ruling in Leicester’s favor.

The book contained little information on Lord Irthir, not surprising considering Dimitri had never heard of him. It barely held a full page on him. His reign was short, a scant 25 years. Equally surprising was that he was the only archbishop not to hold a crest of Seiros— instead possessing a major crest of Cichol. Yet the book implied he was related by blood to the line of Seiros despite that. He was said to be a somber man: stern, quiet, despondent, but very kind. He was said to have never recovered from his sister’s death. He handed the position to his niece, Archbishop Oizys, after the Crescent War. Much like her uncle, she was known as a subdued woman. She was often sickly and walked with a limp. Like every other archbishop she was kind, wise, and benevolent.

The book ended with archbishop Thea, Rhea’s ‘mother’. She was most well known for being the archbishop to put down the Southern Church’s insurrection in 1065 IY.

Dimitri came to the end of the small book. He sighed, flipping back to the start. There was little information on the private life of any archbishop. Almost nothing about any potential family they might have had.

What little there was had an interesting implication, though. The first few archbishops were well known for adopting children— the third archbishop’s historical impact was defined by the trait. Every archbishop after that never adopted. Only one daughter per archbishop (and the one son). Never a mentioned husband or consort.

For Dimitri, it felt like confirmation. Judging by the book, early in her life Rhea acted as a mother for many. For what reason would she abruptly stop? The answer was easy. Either the grief of outliving mortals or the pain of having to pretend to not know the children she adopted. In the end, Rhea chose to isolate herself in her position.

The tidbit about a brother was interesting though. The book implied Lord Irthir was Rhea’s blood brother (or rather, Lady Hybris’ brother). Or was he her son? He was listed as Lady Lyssa’s son; did that make Lord Irthir Rhea’s son? If so, where did the Cichol crest come from? Did the crest come from a potential father, maybe? Was he like Rhea— an inhuman beast? If that was the case, where was he now? Did he still live? Why only rule for 25 years?

Questions and implications tangled in his head. He closed his eyes and pinched his brow. He felt too tired for how early in the night it was. His eyelids were heavy, his thoughts fatigued.

Dimitri tapped at the passage on Irthir, looking to Claude. He voiced his thoughts and questions.

Claude hummed. His brow furrowed, a sure sign of serious thought.

Dimitri stared at the book and wondered. Claude would be able to piece together what Dimitri couldn’t. Motives, secrets, truth. That was Claude’s domain. If anyone could suss out the truth… 

“Do you think she has live birth like a mammal, or lays eggs like a wyvern?”

Dimitri sputtered. Claude’s mind was a mystery he would never understand.  
  


* * *

Claude’s eyes opened to darkness. He didn’t know what woke him.

It was a bit frustrating, actually. He had always been a light sleeper (heavy sleepers died in their sleep), but ever since the kidnapping his sleep was never deep. Sleeping barely dulled his awareness at all. Even while he slept he knew every time someone passed his door in the hall, every time someone opened or shut their doors, every time someone dropped a heavy book in their room. He could hear every footstep.

It was useful in the sense that it made it easy to wake Edelgard and Dimitri when they had nightmares. A small whimper was enough to have him awake and alert. Another handy thing was that he didn’t seem to need nearly as much sleep as he used to. The opposite of Dimitri’s problem, if his hunch was correct.

Less useful in the fact that a wayward creak would leave him wide awake. In a monastery as old as Garreg Mach, that meant he woke up a lot.

But there was something different this time. He couldn’t explain it— a familiar instinct he could feel in his gut. Not one of his new deer instincts. An old instinct. One that saved his skin so many times.

As comfortable as Edelgard’s feathers were, they were actively detrimental in this situation. He couldn’t see his room. He’d grown soft, allowing Dimitri and Edelgard’s embrace lull him into a false sense of security. The only silver lining was that her wings wrapped around them enough that it was impossible for any would-be assassins to find a vital spot on any of them. 

He was forced to rely on his hearing alone. As much as he itched to reach for his dagger, he knew it would do him no good. He was too entangled with Dimitri and Edelgard to make any use of the weapon.

_ There. _ The sound of footsteps was unnaturally silent. In fact, he couldn’t hear footsteps at all. He heard the shuffle of fabric. Hushed breathing.

Someone was in the room with them.

Dimitri would be the best weapon to use. The prince was protective for one, strong for another, and had knives built into his fingers. Close quarters Dimitri was unstoppable unless taken off guard. But Dimitri was slow to wake. If Claude woke him, an assassin would have more than enough time to strike before Dimitri would do anything.

Edelgard woke faster, but Claude didn’t want to risk the small amount of time she would require to become aware. No, if he tried to wake either of them, the intruder would know he was awake and would strike.

_ He was out of time. _ The sound approached the bed. His eyes traced the insides of Edelgard’s wings. His lower half wasn’t wrapped in her feathers like the rest of him was— Edelgard’s wing rested on top of his legs but didn’t wrap around them. His legs were at the side of the bed, facing outwards. He couldn’t disentangle his upper half from Dimitri’s arms or Edelgard’s wings with any speed, but his legs were free. Facing the person in the room. Right at chest height.

He had one shot at this.

The person stilled but fabric still moved. A rustling in the upper body. Arms. Images of possibility filled Claude’s head. The raising of a knife, the drawing of a sword, the reveal of a vial.

He had one chance.In one motion he gripped Dimitri, bracing himself with his upper body strength. It was all instinct in the moment— he knew if he thought too much about it, it wouldn’t work. His forelegs straightened and pushed into the bed, giving him the leverage he needed. It was his hindlegs that did the real work.

Like a spring his hindlegs shot up and out behind him. _ His mule kick connected. _ The crunch of bones was deafening in the silence. He felt his hooves sinking past the resistance of the intruder’s chest.

Continuing with his kick’s momentum he slid himself out from Dimitri’s arms and off the bed, sliding between Edelgard’s wings. He brought his hindlegs to stand beneath him and whirled, coming face to face with the intruder.

He watched the cloaked person fall to the ground. A quiet gurgle followed by a loud thump. A knife fell from the intruder’s hands and clattered to the floor. Claude kicked the knife aside, far out of the man’s reach. 

There was shuffling on the bed but Claude had no time for that. The assassin might still live.

His eyes darted around the intruder’s body, searching for signs of life. He took a step closer, peering over the body.

Dealing with assassins was never fun. Back in Almyra, most attempts on his life were during the day. Disguised as ‘accidents’ or attacks while no one was looking. His room had been his safe place. Not that it was actually safe of course. His old room had been layered in trap after trap. Still, there had been two nighttime visitors over the course of his 16 years in Almyra. He didn’t like to kill people, but when it was him or them, he didn’t hesitate.

There was no use in being upset that the situation felt familiar. His eyes were fixed on the man’s bloody chest. He watched for any rise and fall. The man was still.

Claude knew how foolish it was to assume the man was dead. The assassin could be faking death to lull him into a false sense of security. His eyes moved from the man’s caved in chest. Black robes, black gloves, black— 

_ Bird mask. _

Fear choked him.

Between one blink and the next he reared his front hooves. His hooves stomped down. He stomped again and again, crushing the mask and the face that lay underneath. He watched each moment happen as if watching from a distance. His hooves came down again and again without a single thought in his head.

_ Their captor was dead. _ Byleth had shown them the cultist’s head. This was only a nightmare. The world felt like a dream around him, hazy and unreal. He had to choke back a laugh as he realized it. Just a dream, just a dream. Just a nightmare, same as every night.

Just a nightmare.

He stared down at the red mush below his hooves. If this was a nightmare, would the man get back up? Would the cultist laugh and inject Claude with sedative? Would Claude be rendered helpless again, over and over?

But nothing happened. 

Something touched his shoulder.

He whirled. Someone was saying his name. He blinked, vision blurred. Sound warbled like he was underwater. He panted, couldn’t get enough air.

A small, calloused hand clutched his chin, guiding his head. His eyes met lavender.

Reality slammed back into him. He was shaking. He swallowed roughly. He opened his mouth to say something. To say anything. He didn’t know what to say. He shut his mouth.

He took a deep breath. He took a few more deep breaths. The room was too quiet.

Edelgard stared at him with calm eyes. “Back with us?” she whispered.

With a final breath and a shaky exhale he nodded. He broke eye contact, his eyes finding Dimitri. Still on the bed, his eyes wide and mane puffed up.

He looked down at the red mess at his feet. _ Not a dream. _

“Damn, my poor carpet,” Claude croaked. He shook his head, his thoughts coming in clearer. He knelt down by the body. He’d been _ fine _until he saw the mask. Damn. Even remembering the image rang a thrum of fear through him.

He filed that away to be examined later.

“Claude…” Dimitri whispered.

“I’m fine,” he grunted, then grimaced. That wouldn’t convince them. No one was ever fine when they said _ ‘I’m fine’. _ “Sorry, sorry. Yeah, I lost it a bit. The, when I saw the bird mask.” He wrung his hands, trying to will them to stop shaking. He considered breaking into his stash of raki. The Almyran alcohol would calm his nerves easily. But no, he knew that was a bad idea for many reasons.

Dimitri sucked in a breath. Edelgard sighed. “A member of Those who Slither in the Dark, then. I wish I was surprised.”

Claude huffed something resembling a laugh. “Yeah, same here.” He shuffled through the man’s robe, looking for anything the man had on him.

“Stop!” Edelgard hissed. Claude froze on the spot. “Remove your hands, quickly!”

Claude jerked his hands back at the urgency in Edelgard’s voice. It was good he did. He noticed what Edelgard had: a faint glimmer of purple coalescing around the corpse. A moment later and the body vanished. All that was left was a mess of red and pink where the head had been.

“A warp-stone. Most members of Those who Slither have them in some capacity,” Edelgard explained. “It must have been set to go off after a certain period of time, or perhaps in the event of death.”

Claude swallowed. If he had still been touching the man, would he have been warped too? A sobering thought.

“How dare they,” Dimitri growled. “Haven’t they given us enough grief?”

“We knew this would probably happen,” Claude tried to appease Dimitri. Or maybe he was trying to appease himself. “We knew we’d have assassins sent after us.”

“I slept through it,” Dimitri murmured, his eyes staring through Claude. “We could have died and I never would have noticed.” He growled again. “What good am I?” he whispered.

“We’re not dead, so don’t worry about it.” He wrung his hands, finally the shakes beginning to stop. He was fine. He was. Damn, how pathetic. He could keep his cool through an assassination attempt, but a single glance at a bird mask and he lost it. Absolutely pathetic.

“I’m supposed to _ protect _ you both! I can’t— I can’t lose—”

Claude tilted his head, focusing on Dimitri’s darting eyes. He knew Dimitri had grown to be protective over the two of them, but he had assumed that was mostly new animal instinct. _ Seems it goes deeper than that. _

“Stop wallowing in self-pity,” Edelgard snapped. “I didn’t wake up either.” 

“That’s— that’s not the same!” Dimitri stretched his fingers, flexing his claws. They came out smooth, no blood drawn. “I’m useless. Useless, _ useless, useless… _” Dimitri’s ears were twitching. Almost like he was listening for something, hearing something. Claude strained his own hearing, but found nothing but the general sounds of the monastery.

Claude let out a sigh, calm beginning to replace the adrenaline. “Hey, we’ve all got different strengths. If a group of goons came at us in broad daylight, I have no doubt you could defend us both no problem. Just like how El knows the enemy best. If she hadn’t warned me a minute ago, I’d be wherever that corpse was warped to.” He shuddered at the thought. “We protect _ each other. _Let me deal with expecting the unexpected.”

Dimitri was silent as he mulled over Claude’s words. 

“Though I can’t say this was unexpected,” Claude continued. “Maybe a bit cliche. ‘Knife-wielding assassin, breaks into room in the dead of night’. They could have been a little more creative.”

Edelgard scoffed. “I for one am happy they weren’t more creative in their approach.”

Dimitri stood and moved to the desk. He opened the first drawer and pulled out a towel. It seemed letting Dimitri snoop in his room had benefits. “You should clean up.” Dimitri gestured to his hooves, tossing the rag.

“Remind me to never sneak up on you,” Edelgard murmured as he began to wipe the gore from his hooves. Ugh, he should probably wash up before he got back into bed. “You were… very efficient.”

Claude shrugged, scrubbing at his hoof. “You only get one chance when it comes to assassins. If an assassin gets all the way to your room, that means they’re good enough to get past all the guards and avoid detection. If an assassin is good, they only need one opening and you’re finished. There’s no room to hesitate.” He wedged the rag between his digits, not willing to allow blood to dry and cake between them.

“You speak like you’ve had experience.”

Claude froze. Then cursed himself. Freezing was as good as saying he had something to hide.

“Claude…? Have you…” Dimitri’s voice was small.

He sighed, tossing the rag away. His front hooves weren’t clean, and he hadn’t even bothered with his hind ones. He didn’t feel like finishing. He laid down beside the bed, his back against the mattress. He decided he’d just sleep on the floor for the rest of the night. Didn’t want to clean blood-stained sheets in the morning.

El settled onto the bed behind him, her hands carding through his hair. He closed his eyes, leaning into her touch. “You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.”

_ “Who?” _ Dimitri demanded in a whisper.

“Dimitri,” El’s voice rose in warning.

Claude waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it. Look, it doesn’t matter anymore.” He just wanted to go back to sleep.

“Despicable. Who would dare?” Dimitri wasn’t talking to him anymore. He paced a small circle, muttering. “Why would…? Sudden Heir to Riegan, of course there would be plenty of enemies. The Alliance Roundtable, must have been…”

Claude tried to feel touched at Dimitri’s care. He didn’t. He wasn’t touched. He was annoyed. He _ knew _ Dimitri was worried for him (or something like that), but Claude was being backed into a corner. If he let Dimitri assume the Alliance nobility had put a hit out for his head, that would surely influence Dimitri’s diplomatic opinion in the future. He wanted to believe Dimitri had more sense than to cause an international incident, but he was learning more and more not to underestimate Dimitri’s protectiveness. He bordered on possessive in his wilder moments.

“We have more pressing things to discuss. Like whether or not we inform the Church on the attempt on our lives,” Edelgard interrupted. _ Fortune smile on her, _ Claude knew she was trying to steer Dimitri away from digging deeper into his secrets. He gave thanks for small blessings.

Dimitri came to a halt, fixing Edelgard with a glare. “This is more important. Someone tried to kill Claude! I won’t rest until they pay for that. What if they try again?” Dimitri bared his teeth, hunching his shoulders. His tail lashed side to side. “What will you do if they try again, El? If they succeed, because you didn’t stop them? What will you do if Claude dies because of you?” He took a step towards her. “Are you willing to let his blood stain your hands? Because _ I won’t allow it.” _

Claude had to give Edelgard credit, she didn’t flinch in the face of Dimitri’s rant. The hands petting his hair didn’t even slow.

“Dimitri, _ it doesn’t matter. _ It’s in the past.”

_“It does matter!”_ Dimitri whirled on him. For someone that seemed so insistent on ‘protecting’ him, Dimitri felt rather threatening as he towered above. “This is your life. Tell me who attacked you, tell me! I don’t care who they are. I’ll wipe them out, I’ll wipe them all out… crush them, make them regret…” He descended into muttering.

Claude grit his teeth. _ Fine. _ “Dimitri, the attempts on my life were from before I came to Fódlan. You can stop planning war on the Alliance now.”

Edelgard’s hands slowed to a stop in his hair. “Attempt**_s_**_?__” _

_ Fuck. _

“How many?” Dimitri growled.

“It doesn’t matter.”

_“How. Many?!” _ Dimitri’s volume was raising.

“Don’t go waking up the whole dorms, Dimitri,” Claude warned with a glare.

Dimitri stalked closer.

“More than one. Happy? Does that make you happy to hear Dimitri? Huh? _ Does it? Are you satisfied yet? _ Want to keep prying?” He snarled at Dimitri. “Oh, should I tell you every unhappy memory I have? So you can kiss my ouchies and kill the big bad meanies that hurt me? You’d have more luck blotting every star out of the night sky.”

Dimitri’s anger crumpled into hurt in the face of Claude’s rare temper. _ Finally seems to realize he crossed a line. _ Claude seized on Dimitri’s show of weakness, pushing further. “Is that how you view me, some sort of child in need of protection? A helpless damsel in distress? What, do you think I’ve gotten this far in life by dumb luck? You think I need _ your _ protection?” 

Claude let the bile spill from his lips. But he stopped himself. He didn’t finish his rant. ‘_ How many has your protection saved before? Let me ask your _ ** _father.’_ ** His cruel thoughts boiled under his skin, but he held them back. He was angry, but he refused to be that cruel. Unlike _ Dimitri, _ he had lines he didn’t cross.

“I don’t _ need _ anyone. I don’t need _ you.” _

“Oh. Oh Claude…” El murmured.

He whirled on her, his anger passing on to her. Her eyes traced around his room. She looked at his room with new understanding. Understanding he had so desperately wanted to hide. He knew the next question.

“Why?” Dimitri whispered, crouching in front of him. Dimitri’s rage deflated into a sad, pathetic confusion. “Why would people want you dead?”

Claude wondered what life for Dimitri was like, growing up in a world that wasn’t out for his head. Even including the Tragedy, no one specifically targeted Dimitri. The genuine lack of understanding on his face was as innocent as it was disgusting. It was ironic, how innocent Dimitri was to so many things. The Prince crushed human skulls with his bare hands. But the thought that someone might want Claude dead?

Privileged ignorance.

“No one likes people that are different.” He shrugged, not wanting to talk about it. Of course, when people wanted someone else dead for such a petty reason as race, usually it wasn’t called assassination. Being a prince changed that. Not that he was about to let that tidbit slip, no matter what. Perhaps they would pick up on the fact that he was a bit more important back home than he let on, but automatically assuming he was royalty was a stretch they wouldn’t make.

“That— that can’t be it. You’re saying people tried to kill you just— just for _ that?” _

Claude wondered if there had ever been a time he’d been as naive as Dimitri. Dimitri had Dedue as a retainer— how did he not understand? _ Tch, _ of course he wouldn’t understand. It was one thing to see it; something else entirely to be constantly threatened by it.

“Can you blame me for being so careful about my heritage now? People have wanted my death since the day a woman from Fódlan had a child with a man from Almyra.”

“Since your birth? But— that’s not your fault!”

He huffed a bitter laugh. “Neither was growing a pair of antlers, but all three of us have people trying to kill us for that. Satisfied yet? Or are you planning to keep digging into my past?” he sneered, angry eyes _ daring _ Dimitri to keep going.

Dimitri deflated. “Oh. Claude, I… I’m sorry. I let my anger get the best of me. I was just worried… I just can’t stand the thought of— no, never mind. I shouldn’t have… ”

“Yeah, you shouldn’t have.” Claude scrubbed a hand down his face. He was still so angry at Dimitri. Angry at how Dimitri zeroed in on him and ignored the issue at hand. Angry at how Dimitri couldn’t drop the subject. Angry at how Dimitri wouldn't take his refusal to answer and let it go. Angry at himself for giving away such an obvious tell. Angry at those _ damned _ cultists. “Can we be done with this yet? Are we going to tell anyone in the church about the breach in security? My vote is no, by the way.”

Edelgard resumed combing through his hair with her hands. “My thoughts were the same. I don’t see any benefit in telling the Church.”

Dimitri frowned. He still wore a look of shame. “Should we not inform the monastery that there is a hole in their security?” His voice was meek.

“Knowing would do the Church no use. The assassin teleported in— there is little to be done to shore up that defense.”

“Besides, can you imagine the kind of security they’d try to foist on us? We’d probably have guards with us 24/7. No thanks, I’ll pass on that.”

“If that is what you both think is best, I won’t object.”

“There’s still the, y’know,” Claude gestured at the mess of what once was a human head. He tried not to remember that _ he _ had caused that. “How will we covertly clean that mess?”

“Oh, don’t worry. Hubert can take care of that come morning.”

Claude tried to imagine exactly what she meant by that. Did Hubert regularly clean up those sorts of messes for Edelgard?... Probably. The better question was whether he cleaned with magic, or the old fashion way. An image of Hubert dressed in a maid’s outfit impressed itself into his brain. He might have laughed, if he was in a better mood.

He rubbed at his eyes. Physically he wasn’t tired at all. Emotionally he was exhausted. He glanced out his window. It was still dark with no sign of dawn in sight. If he had to guess, it was very early in the morning. There was no way he was getting back to sleep. Usually he would go on a walk to look at the stars or pull open a book and read. Going on a walk right after an assassination attempt was begging for trouble, and he didn’t have the energy to read.

The silence in the room was heavy. Edelgard was still playing with his hair, albeit her movements felt distracted. Dimitri sat on the ground beside Claude’s desk, staring off into space. His eyes darted from empty spot to empty spot, his ears still twitching. It reminded Claude a bit of the way cats would stare at nothingness as though there was something there. 

Claude raised his eyes to the ceiling, letting loose a long sigh. His stomach churned. He was still upset at Dimitri. Dimitri _ said _ he regretted going as far as he did, sure. He didn’t doubt that Dimitri was feeling a heap of regret. That didn’t change the fact that he still _ did it. _ As much as he wanted to just forgive Dimitri and proceed with a calming cuddle session, he couldn’t. This wasn’t the first time Dimitri had pushed boundaries. Claude doubted it would be the last. 

No, if he just forgave Dimitri the breach of trust would only fester inside him. Gods damn him for his hubris, but he _ wanted _ to be able to trust Dimitri. On an instinctual level, something that went deeper than logic or thought, he trusted both Dimitri and Edelgard wholly and completely. He trusted them more than anyone, more than he’d ever trusted anyone. It terrified him how much he trusted them. But if Dimitri refused to control himself, Claude didn’t know how he could keep doing this

He _ wanted _ to forgive Dimitri.

“A secret for a secret,” Claude declared. Dimitri and Edelgard jolted as he broke the silence. “If you want my forgiveness, a secret for a secret. I told you mine— I’ve had multiple attempts for my head. Give me an equal secret and I’ll forgive you. It’s only fair.”

Dimitri hunched his shoulders. “I… Yes, that’s fair. But… I don’t have many secrets. Few that I haven’t already shared. You already know that I came to the academy for revenge.”

“Few still means some.”

Dimitri grimaced. “Yes. I suppose so…” Dimitri was silent. Claude was beginning to wonder if Dimitri would refuse. “What do you count as ‘equal’?”

Claude shrugged. “Something important to you. I’m not looking for your favorite color here— by the way, if it isn’t blue I’ll eat my braid. But you don’t have to give me your deepest darkest secret either. Unless you want to, of course. I’m all ears.”

Dimitri cracked a small smile. “And if I said my favorite color was green?”

“I’d call you a charming liar. And then eat my braid, probably.”

Dimitri huffed a ghost of a laugh. “Your braid is safe, blue is my favorite. I…” He fiddled with the cuff of his sleeve. “Neither of you will speak of this, right?”

“So long as you don’t speak of mine.”

Dimitri nodded. “Not even Dedue knows this. It’s— maybe it’s silly. I’m not sure it’s good enough. Ever since the Tragedy… I can’t taste.”

Claude blinked. “Can’t taste? Taste what?”

“Anything. Food is tasteless to me. Spicy, sweet, bitter, sour— it’s all a foggy memory for me and nothing more.”

It clicked into place. So many little details.

“So that’s how you ate the prison gruel!” Edelgard gasped. “Oh, apologies. I don’t mean to make light of your situation.”

Dimitri cracked a wan smile. “It does have benefits now and then.”

“Huh. Why keep it such a closely guarded secret?” Claude asked. “I mean, I understand why you don’t want just anyone knowing that. I said a few days ago that you’re stupid easy to poison, and that’s only more true now.” Scarily so. “But why not Dedue?”

“I didn’t want pity, at first. With Dedue though, he puts a great deal of effort into cooking for me. I’ve seen that it gives him a sort of comfort. If he knew I couldn’t taste any of it…”

“Well, we won’t breathe a word of it,” Edelgard said for the both of them.

“… Was that an adequate secret?” 

‘Not being able to taste food’ wasn’t really on par with ‘people have been trying to kill me since I was a baby’. But it was something Dimitri valued and held very close to his chest. The twist of hurt in his chest softened. _Good enough, then._ “Yeah, you’re forgiven. Don’t do it again. Now get over here you big fluffy baby.”

Dimitri didn’t need to be told twice, slinking over to them. Instead of joining El on the bed like he expected, Dimitri wrapped his arms around Claude’s waist and rested his head on Claude’s back. He curled his body around Claude’s front. Claude ran a hand through Dimitri’s mane.

“By the way, if you ever do that again I’m demanding another secret. That goes for you too El.”

“Claude, you sniff out a new secret of mine every day. Am I not entitled to ask a free secret of you?”

“Mm, nope. The one-for-one secret policy only just went into effect, previous sales are invalid for redemption. Besides, _ sniffing _ out a secret is different than demanding one. If either of you figure out my secrets through clues I’ve let drop, that’s on me.”

“I’m not entitled to even a tiny secret?” Edelgard asked, teasing.

Claude hummed, thinking. “Yellow’s my second favorite color. That’s your freebie.”

“What? It’s not your first?” Dimitri poked his head up. “What’s your favorite color then?”

Claude winked. “Ah, a good question! But I’m afraid…” he paused for dramatic effect. “…it’s a secret.” 

Dimitri groaned and El chuckled. 

“I don’t think I can go back to sleep,” Dimitri murmured into his back.

“Same here,” Edelgard agreed.

“Story time, then?” It was a nice thing they had going. Every so often one of them couldn’t be soothed back to sleep after a nightmare. So they’d stay awake telling stories. Well, mostly Claude told the stories. But that was okay. Telling tales he grew up with soothed an ache of homesickness that he’d deny to his dying breath. 

He wove a story from one of the tales his father used to comfort him with after nightmares in his childhood. It was obviously a child’s story, but Dimitri and Edelgard didn’t seem to mind. Eventually El’s hands stopped stroking his head. She rested her chin on top of his head, leaning against him and draping her wings to cover both him and Dimitri.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is 1/4th fluff, 1/4th world building, and 1/2 angst. Woops. No El perspective this chapter, rip.
> 
> I love Sylvain. He totally threw out the chess line because he thought it might grab Claude’s attention, and his gambit paid off. Then there's Dimitri, cockblocking Sylvain's flirting.
> 
> I wish the ingame library gave more details on Fódlan’s history. I mean, I shouldn’t complain— honestly the amount of worldbuilding they fit into the game naturally is staggering. But come on! Clearly Lady Rhea can’t have been the only archbishop ‘officially’. Who else was there? So anyways I made up a lot of stuff. Canon doesn’t say, so it’s free real estate. I did fit everything into the given timeline though— pretty much every date I mentioned is accurate (Garreg Mach was completed in 185, etc.) I plan to go into a bit more detail later, because both Claude and Dimitri’s late-night library runs to sift for info is canon lol. I really hope what I've written for it so far makes sense- I rewrote that part four times and I'm still not satisfied with it. 
> 
> Poor Claude. Has a panic attack, smashes someone's head. We've all been there. Ehehe... all of you that commented about Dimitri losing it if he learned about why Claude's so paranoid? Y'all were so right. Is it hypocritical for Claude to get so upset at Dimitri forcing answers from him? Maybe, maybe not. We finally have their first argument post-prisonbreak. Poor Edelgard, sitting in the corner going ':/' the whole time.
> 
> Next chapter: Retainers


	9. Retainers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So last chapter I mentioned that I wished that the library had more books… Well the DLC dropped a ton new books in the sewer library lol, so I’m super happy about all that.
> 
> Anyways thanks to everyone for being patient with me! For some reason this chapter was like bashing my head against a wall... Next chapter should be out in a week or two (probably two).

**Wendsday, 7th of Harpstring Moon**

  
  


Hubert was debating dipping into his small stash of coffee. The past three days had been busy for him— the night prior only more so. Nearly all of his former contacts within both the Empire and Those Who Slither no longer had any dealings with him. Those that did were the few that news had yet to reach, primarily those within the Empire. His loyalty to Lady Edelgard was well known and it was doing him no favors.

The few contacts of his that Lady Edelgard’s ‘change in status’ did not affect were not particularly useful, most of which being commoners or servants. Still, coin always helped sway those on the fence. It had been tricky to get a reliable update from the Empire, but for Lady Edelgard there was nothing he wouldn’t do. His coin was good, and as such the fastest hawk had delivered a message as soon as one of his few remaining spies within the palace had heard the news.

It was news they expected, but he still regretted the contents.

Hubert paused outside Lady Edelgard’s door before grimacing, remembering she wasn’t there. It grated at him. Lady Edelgard entirely disregarded his warnings. It only drove another strike of fury that he knew she was in someone else’s room.  _ Claude von Riegan’s _ room. Of all the foolish options to trust, he was the most foolish. Blaiddyd was also a foolish person to trust, but for opposite reasons.

Hubert knocked on  _ Claude’s _ door. Judging by how quickly Lady Edelgard responded to his knocking, her soft  _ ‘enter,’ _ he had to assume she had already been awake.

He stood in the open doorway and made no move to enter in further. The picture he was greeted with was an ugly one: the two  _ beasts _ were wrapped around Lady Edelgard. How easily they could end her life, being so close. And what a damned hell the room itself was. The place was a mess— Lady Edelgard deserved better, she should not be relegated to living such filth. 

He gave a short bow to Lady Edelgard. “I have an urgent matter I must speak with you about.” His glare intensified at the other two. Riegan’s smirk only grew. At least Blaiddyd had the decency to look uncomfortable.

Lady Edelgard sighed, her ire towards him only barely visible. “Hubert, good morning. I wanted to speak with you this morning as well. Whatever you have to say can be said here. Step in, shut the door behind you.”

Hubert clenched his jaw. “I am uncertain that is a wise decision. This involves your uncle.”

Lady Edelgard grimaced but did not waver. “It is as I said Hubert. Enter and close the door behind you.”

He did as she bid him. He clasped his hands behind his back, glaring for all he was worth.

“So, Hubie! What’s the scoop?”

Hubert scowled and kept his temper in check. “Do  _ not  _ call me that.”

“Call you what? Hubie? Why not, Hubie?”

“Claude, do not antagonize Hubert.”

Riegan rolled his eyes, shifting. “Yeah yeah, whatever you say.”  _ Ah. _ Hubert understood Riegan’s flimsy smokescreen now. The boy was  _ uncomfortable  _ with Hubert in his private space.

Hubert felt a slim sliver of satisfaction at the irony. “It appears you are a deer with a collar, von Riegen.” Perhaps he  _ had _ been a touch too hasty in his judgement. Clearly Lady Edelgard had Riegan under her thumb.

_ “Hubert, _ do not antagonize Claude. Goddess above, are you both children?”

Hubert tightened his expression, but held his tongue. “The Empire has made an official statement regarding your status.” He knew Lady Edelgard would not appreciate softening the blow, so he continued. “Much as we predicted, you have been officially disinherited from the throne. I suspect it will take a few more days before the news filters back to Garreg Mach.”

Lady Edelgard nodded. “Unfortunate, but a relief to finally have a solid answer.”

Hubert shifted his eyes to the two others. He considered holding his tongue, but decided against it. “There are forces in the dark that are not happy with your current existence. Though I have heard nothing hinting at an attack yet, I must urge you to act with caution in the coming future. Many of our enemies will not hesitate to strike in the dark, as I am sure you are already aware. You are a loose end they will no doubt seek to cut.”

“We’ve noticed,” Blaiddyd snarled.

Hubert raised an eyebrow.  _ A peculiar response…  _

“That is actually what I wished to speak with you about, Hubert. It would seem our enemies sought to take action sooner rather than later.”

Hubert was not an easily shaken man. Yet his heart gave a jolt. He was good at reading between the lines of her words. His eyes darted over her, looking for any possible injury. “You were attacked?”

Lady Edelgard raised a slim finger to point at a semi-covered stain along the carpet. Looking closer, he realized the stain was red, recent, and wasn’t merely blood. It was a small pile of gore.

“You were attacked.”

Edelgard nodded. “Indeed.”

He hissed a breath through his nose. Hubert knew how  _ they  _ worked. He knew how efficient  _ their _ assassins were. Silent. Deadly. Slippery. They wouldn’t have sent any amateur either— they would have sent one of their best. “You are… unharmed?” It was obvious that she was, despite what logic would dictate.

Edelgard nodded. “They didn’t so much as lay a hand on us.”

Hubert took in a calming breath. “I’ll immediately work on tracking down your assailant. I’ll make certain they never again lift their weapon against you.”

“I already beat you to the punch, actually. Rather, beat you to the kick,” Riegan said. “C’mon, step up your game.”

“What? The assailant— they’re dead?” Hubert knew how difficult  _ they  _ were to take down. Nearly impossible to actually hit unless taken by surprise. They were also borderline impossible to surprise.

“Unless your Slitherer friends can survive without their head, yup. He’s dead.”

Lady Edelgard confirmed Riegan’s words with a nod of her head. “Consider me impressed, then.” He  _ actually _ was impressed. Something sour curled in his chest, but he pushed past it. Despite the bitter taste it left in his mouth, he continued. “And, as loathe as I am to say it, you have my thanks as well.”

“Hubert, I know you’ve had your protests on my current sleeping arrangement.” At her words, Blaiddyd twisted his face into a snarl directed at him, curling a possessive arm around her. “However, were it not for Claude’s quick reactions last night, I would likely be dead.”

Hubert wanted to grit his teeth.  _ He _ was supposed to protect Lady Edelgard. 

This was his third failure to protect her.

“Those who Slither in the Dark… their magics are strong and varied. They can easily make their steps silent.” Though it was a statement, he posed it as a question. He knew from personal experience how hard they were to notice.

“Their steps maybe, but that’s not the only noise someone slinking in the shadows makes.” Riegan shrugged, flicking an ear. “They weren’t as quiet as they thought.”

“I see.” He didn’t trust Riegan. He didn’t trust Blaiddyd. Results though, those he couldn’t dismiss. He looked at the way the three sat in a new light. Blaiddyd’s protectiveness was blatant, something impossible to miss. The prince was disgustingly honest in how he held himself. Whether he had the skills or ability to back it up, that was the real question. Riegan was the complete opposite. Hubert didn’t doubt for a moment that the coward would sell Lady Edelgard’s life for his own in a heartbeat.

But Hubert realized there was a factor he had overlooked when it came to the Riegan heir: his own life was tied to Lady Edelgard’s now. Politically, if Lady Edelgard was removed from the big picture, Riegan’s own position would be destabilized. If any of the ‘Holy Trio’— as the church had dubbed them— were to be slain, it would shatter the archbishop’s ‘prophesy’ that she had spun. As much as Hubert hated it all, it did grant Lady Edelgard a degree of legitimacy when she needed it most. But to remove any of the three that legitimacy would dry up.

He eyed the way Riegan lay curled up against Lady Edelgard. Hubert knew feelings and emotions wouldn’t stop the schemer if it came down to it. The boy could be head over heels in love with Lady Edelgard and Hubert wouldn’t be any less wary of him. Whatever Claude von Riegan’s ambitions were, Hubert knew the boy wouldn’t let even his own feelings get in the way. 

But self-preservation?  _ That _ was something Riegan placed priority on. Riegan was no fool— he knew just as well as Hubert that if one of the trio went down, they all went down.

That was something he could trust. He couldn’t trust Riegan to protect Lady Edelgard for her own sake— but for his own? That was something Hubert could trust.

Now if only he could feel so confident in Blaiddyd. The prince would no doubt try his best to protect Lady Edelgard, but only time would see if  _ his best _ was enough.

Hubert knelt by the bloody mess, preparing a long practiced spell. He took note of the white shards of skull that had been so thoroughly pulverized. He made a mental note to not surprise Riegan if  _ this _ was the result. Effective, he had to admit, if certainly overkill. With a wave of his hand the mess vanished, nothing but the faint tang of burnt ozone left in the air.

Finished, he looked up to see Blaiddyd bearing his teeth in Hubert’s direction, a low growl coming from his throat. Hubert raised a single eyebrow.

“Dimitri.” At Lady Edelgard’s sharp tone, Blaiddyd stopped his growling, but his teeth remained on display.

“It smells the same,” Blaiddyd grumbled. “He’s using the same magic as the assassin!”

_ Ah. _ The burnt smell. “Most dark magic has that unfortunate side effect. It is also the favored form of magic used by Those who Slither.”

The frown on the prince’s face slipped slightly, his eyes darting to Lady Edelgard for confirmation. She nodded. “It is as Hubert says. Dark magic, while not exclusive to Those who Slither, tends to be their trademark.”

Blaiddyd nodded, though he still shot another glare at Hubert.

“I have matters to attend to. I will take my leave.” Ensuring Lady Edelgard’s safety, of course. He knew Those who Slither had at least one loyal agent within Garreg Mach. Unfortunately, he didn’t yet know  _ who _ that was. Jeritza also needed to be dealt with, however that would be easier. Beyond that, he needed to deal with the gaps in the monastery’s warping-wards. That was the last thing he wanted to do— much of Garreg Mach was naturally warded against teleportation, with only a few pockets that could be slipped through. Any area that allowed warping was usually the work of an agent that specifically whittled away at a ward already, and often had traps or contingencies to prevent the wards from returning. Worse, reactivating the warp-wards meant it would be impossible for Hubert to spirit Lady Edelgard away in the worst case scenario. Still, after an apparent assassination attempt, he knew it had to be done.

He could foresee many more sleepless nights ahead of him.  _ Looks like he would be slipping into his coffee stash after all. _

* * *

It was early in the morning that Dedue began making breakfast for His Highness. As part of a thank you, he also made breakfast for Claude and Edelgard. He also knew that Dimitri would be unlikely to eat in their presence if they didn’t have food as well. His Highness was kind in that way.

Dedue had mixed feelings about the other two. He wasn’t sure how much he trusted the Imperial Princess or the Riegan heir. Dimitri trusted them though, and Dedue trusted Dimitri’s judgement. The two made Dimitri happy. The happiest Dedue had ever seen him.

Dedue was self-aware enough to know one of the things he felt was jealousy. It was shameful, but it was also the truth. Aside from during class, Dimitri spent every possible moment in the company of the other two lords. There was a new distance between Dimitri and himself. The jealousy was small though. More than anything he was happy for Dimitri. His Highness was  _ happy. _ Dimitri even seemed… settled, in a way he never had before. Not quite ‘at peace’ but less haunted nonetheless.

His Highness didn’t like large meals in the morning. That said, in his more unguarded moments, Dimitri didn’t seem to enjoy even eating at all. His Highness didn’t have much of a food preference, as far as Dedue could tell. To a frustrating degree. In all the time he had been under Dimitri, the amount of dietary preferences he had learned was laughable. It seemed no matter what Dedue made His Highness, it made no difference. Spicy, sweet, fish, poultry, game— none of it seemed to matter. The only thing he knew was that Dimitri seemed to enjoy cheese-based dishes. The kind man that he was, Dimitri never mentioned if he disliked a meal. The only dish Dedue ever noticed Dimitri actually refuse was Peach Sorbet. It wasn’t much to go off of.

Breakfast was a different meal in Fódlan than the kind of breakfast Dedue grew up with. In Dedue’s own home, a hearty breakfast was a common start to any day, be they poor or rich. Even when meat wasn’t available, it was still considered normal to eat a large meal in the morning. Lunch had been his people’s light meal of the day. Fódlan flipped that, having dinner as the main meal of the day, breakfast the lightest. Many of the nobility forwent breakfast altogether. 

Most nobles Dedue had noticed would only eat a light breakfast accompanied by a cup of tea. His first few days at Garreg Mach were interesting. Each country ate in subtly different manners, he noticed. Adrestrians tended to eat more vegetables and less fish. Those from the Leicester territories had a preference for wild game, but overall were the least picky about what they ate.

Still, he had taken note of His Highness’ recent increase in appetite. Another good thing to come out of the horrible kidnapping experience: His Highness was finally eating even when Dedue didn’t put food in front of him. For the first time in a great while, Dedue made more than a light breakfast.

It was a bit awkward to balance the three plates on a platter, but he made it work. Extra meat for Edelgard, vegetarian for Claude.

He knocked on the door, His Highness’ voice answering. Opening the door put a soft smile on his face— Dimitri was in what appeared to be a rather comfortable blanket pile on the floor, wrapped around the other two. It was still odd to see His Highness’ unrestrained displays of affection, but it warmed Dedue’s heart nonetheless.

For an awkward moment, Dedue looked for space to place the meal. Claude’s room was…filled with character. And very cluttered.

“Aw, how sweet!” the deer himself said, nudging His Highness. “Dedue brought you breakfast! I’m jealous. And starving,” Claude moaned that last bit, draping himself over Dimitri. “You’ll share, won’t you?

“You can have it if you like Claude. I am not hungry this morning…”

Edelgard rolled her eyes, lightly smacking them both. “Dimitri, skipping meals is unhealthy. Claude can get his own from the dining hall.”

Dimitri frowned, noticeably tightening his hold on Claude. Then Dedue saw  _ it. _ The tightness to Dimitri’s eyes. The way they didn’t fully focus. The tension in his shoulders.

His Highness had a bad night it seemed. In the past, Dimitri’s ‘bad nights’ usually consisted of screaming and thrashing. It was a good sign that Dedue hadn’t heard any screaming the previous night. Neither Claude nor Edelgard appeared injured, which likely meant Dimitri hadn’t thrashed either. Still, Dedue knew his lord would be off for the rest of the day.

“I made a meal for the three of you actually, so no need to fret,” Dedue said. “Consider it my thanks.”

For a split second Dedue thought he saw Claude’s eyes narrow. He certainly had only imagined it, as the lord was all smiles again. “Wow, you really know how to butter a fella up, huh?” Claude winked at him. Dedue… wasn’t sure what the proper response to that was.  _ “You _ cooked the meal yourself? Why not just bring us something from the dining hall? Not that I'm complaining mind you! Providing you’re a decent cook, that is.”

“Claude, cease your interrogating of Dedue,” Dimitri grumbled. “Dedue is a very diligent cook. You have nothing to worry about.” There was some hidden message in those last words, Dedue was certain.  _ Ah, _ so Claude didn’t trust him. That was fine. Dedue was used to that.

“Being a diligent cook doesn’t mean a good cook.” Claude rolled his eyes, followed by a grimace for some reason. “Oh, right. Almost forgot…” he mumbled to himself.

Dedue placed each plate in their laps. “You do not have to eat if you do not wish to. I can retrieve food from the dining hall if you would prefer, Claude. I know as a man of Duscur I am not the most trustworthy individual.”

Claude’s face twisted into a grimace before settling into an easygoing smile. “Nah, that’s not the issue. ‘Sides, if the taste is as good as the smell, I’ll probably be begging you for breakfast in the future.”

Edelgard shook her head at Claude, turning to Dedue. “Please don’t take it personally. Claude wouldn’t trust the Goddess herself to prepare him a meal.”

“I think that’s perfectly reasonable! Does a Goddess even know how to cook? Seems like a pretty mundane skill for a divine being,” Claude declared. Edelgard gave Dedue a look that screamed  _ ‘do you see what I have to put up with?’ _ Claude took a bite of the Country-Style red turnip plate. He gave a very un-noble-like moan. “I take it all back. Dedue, wanna join the Golden Deer? I think I’d kill to have this for breakfast every day.”

Dedue gave a small bow. “My loyalty will always be to His Highness. However, for as long as you stay by his side, I see no issue making the occasional breakfast.”

Claude gave a whoop, then quieted to bite into another slice of turnip.

Edelgard gave a far more proper hum as she took a bite of her own meal. “This is quite good. You have my thanks, Dedue.”

Dimitri bit into his own meal, a smile unfurling across his face. “I am once again astounded by your thoughtfulness Dedue. Thank you for making a meal for all of us. I hope it wasn’t too much trouble.”

Dedue merely bowed again. “It is no trouble. I will take my leave.”

“Hold on, one sec!” Claude said through a mouthful of food, quickly swallowing. “What kind of spices did you use in this? The dining hall would never use any of this in their food.”

“Ah, my apologies. It is something of a habit to cook in the manner I was taught growing up. If you are truly interested in a list, I can tell you. But the truth is that many of the spices are not native to Fódlan.”

“Isn’t that expensive?” Claude cocked his head, eyes narrowed.

Dedue wasn’t sure what Claude was looking for with that expression, so he paid it no mind. “Not cheap, were I to buy my supplies. I grow my own for what I can and substitute what I cannot.”

“No way? Say, you wouldn’t possibly be willing to share a few with lil’ ol’ me, would you? I’ll make it worth your time…”

“I suppose I could part with some surplus…”

“Score!” Claude pumped a fist. Then he gestured to the bed. “Take a seat! No need to stand all day.”

“I should be lea—”

“Nonsense! Do you know how hard it is to find anyone with a decent pallet in this grungy old place?” Dedue… wasn’t sure what Claude meant by that. Claude leaned towards him, bringing his voice down to a whisper. “What I’m saying is that Fódlandi food is bland as dirt. I bet Dimitri can’t even name any spices!”

“That’s not true,” Dimitri mumbled. “I know plenty of spices. Salt… ginger… pepper… ah… sugar? Does sugar count?”

Claude’s face seemed to mirror Edelgard’s earlier  _ ‘see what I have to deal with?’ _ look.

“Cinnamon, cloves, nutmeg, musk, fennel, garlic, juniper. There are plenty of spices, Claude,” Edelgard rattled off.

“Half of those are herbs or seasonings, not spices. Sure, they’re something. But I’d  _ kill _ for some saffron. Do you know how impossible that is to get here? It’s insane. Or some mastic, cardamom, turmeric, cumin… I had some  _ ‘super-spicy fish dango’ _ from the dining hall a few weeks ago— it was  _ barely _ spicy! Ugh, you’d think—” Claude paused, clearing his throat. “Ah, never mind. Ignore my blabbering. I’m passionate about good food.”

Dedue nodded. He had to wonder from what corner of the Alliance Claude was from. He knew of some of the spices Claude mentioned, but many he had never had the chance to try for himself. “Unfortunately most of those things do not grow well in Fódlan’s environment. However I can supply you with what I have, if you would like.”

There was a glint in Claude’s eyes that Dedue did not like. “Dedue, I think we’re going to be  _ excellent _ friends.” Dedue got the impression he didn’t have a say in the matter. He was reminded sharply of Hilda. No wonder Claude and Hilda got along so well.

Claude was a surprisingly inclusive conversation partner, coaxing details and anecdotes out of Dedue. Even though Claude didn’t seem interested in actually cooking, he was relentless in getting the details of some of Dedue’s more traditional meals. He was oddly insightful as well. Claude even pulled Dimitri into much of the conversation— asking for opinions on silly things or lightly teasing. 

“I like a little crunch to my vegetables. Can’t stand mushy, over-cooked ones. What about you Dimitri?”

“I hadn’t given it much thought… though I suppose I would have to agree with you. A little crunch is preferable to mush. I’m not picky either way, though.”

To Dedue’s amazement, Claude managed to subtly extract a few  _ food opinions _ from Dimitri. He asked things Dedue had never thought to; about texture, smell, even the appearance of the dish. As always, Dimitri never answered with any strong opinions— but it was enough to give Dedue  _ something  _ to go off of.

Claude would be getting many more breakfasts in the future, it would seem.

“And sweets? I bet you’ve got a secret sweet-tooth.” Claude wiggled his fingers at Dimitri. “Big tough Faerghus Prince surely loves a good sweet bun, huh? All that warm syrupy goodness…” Despite Claude’s gooey tone, the expression on his face led Dedue to think he had less than stellar opinions on that ‘syrupy goodness’.

“Sweets are fine, so long as they’re warm,” Dimitri agreed with a nod of his head.

“‘Fine’? Hmph, everyone knows dessert is the best part of any meal,” Edelgard added her own thoughts.

“So it’s the big tough Imperial Princess with the sweet-tooth then. I suppose you have to make up for your less-than-sweet personality somehow.”

Dedue still wasn’t sure how much to trust the Riegan heir. He had an air much like Hilda— a great deal of blunder and bustle that hid something dishonest underneath. But he was coming to learn that dishonesty didn’t always mean maliciousness. 

The best part about Claude, Dedue came to realize, was the way he indulged His Highness. Dedue was not a subtle man— he was honest by nature. Still, he had enough social awareness to realize what Claude was doing. 

It was nice to spend time with Dimitri again.

* * *

Hilda knocked on Claude’s door. She didn’t bother waiting for a response, immediately opening the door and stepping in.

“Wow, so the rumors  _ are _ true!” She grinned, startling the two lords and Dedue. She noticed Claude’s lack of reaction, how he hadn’t been surprised by her entrance. “You three look so cozy!” She winked at the pile on the floor.

Dedue nodded his head towards her, looking stiff as a board sat on Claude’s bed. “Good morning, Hilda.” Still so polite!

“Morning to you too!” She twisted past him and made herself at home on the bed. She wasn’t sure why the three of them were curled up in blankets on the floor instead of Claude’s giant bed, but it wasn’t any of her business. More room for her and Dedue!

“Hilda, I didn’t know it was possible for you to be awake this early in the morning,” Claude drawled, eyes half lidded and mouth curled into a smirk. He bit into a chunk of red turnip, raising an eyebrow.  _ Why are you here? _ was the question he was really asking.

Hilda groaned, flopping onto her back. “Ugh, I  _ know. _ It’s way too early.” She reached down and snagged a piece from Claude’s plate of turnips, humming in satisfaction.

“Rude!” Claude gave her a glare without heat. “Hilda, I regret to inform you that you’ve been demoted. Dedue’s my new favorite.  _ You _ never make me breakfast in bed.”

Hilda gave a mock gasp. “Demoted? After everything I’ve done for you? You’re so heartless. Who knew, the way to your heart is through turnips!” She took another piece of his breakfast, ignoring Claude swatting at her hand. “But I can’t blame you. This is divine.” She turned her eyes to Dedue, the man stiff and uncomfortable as always. She batted her eyelashes at him. “How come you’ve never made  _ me  _ breakfast? I thought we were friends!”

Dedue’s face remained as solid as stone, though the small shift in his posture was one of his tells of discomfort. Poor guy never knew how to take her teasing, though he was slowly getting used to her. “My apologies, Hilda.” He paused, his eyes slipping away from hers to briefly fall on Dimitri. “Perhaps, if you assist me next time, I would make an extra portion for you.”

“Ugh, too much worrrrk!” She counted Dedue’s invitation as a win, even though she wouldn’t be caught dead getting up early to help cook. Dedue had come so far in the two weeks she’d known him. On the surface he was so stilted. Blunt, boring, disciplined. Everything she wasn’t. At first he had rebuffed her over and over.  _ ‘It wouldn’t do to be seen conversing with a man of Duscur.’ _ At first she had been offended, assuming he was trying to get rid of her. When he continued using the same excuse, she realized he was just blunt.  _ ‘Your reputation will decline if you are seen with me,’ _ he had grown only more insistent in shaking her, isolating himself. It was actually pretty sweet of him. His own way of saying he cared. Her  _ reputation? _ She was a lazy spoiled noble. One known for her weak constitution, always asking for help from big strong men. It was perfectly in character to nurture a friendship with Dedue.

By the third day of her pestering, he seemed to get the hint. He stopped recommending she leave him alone.

“So, are you here to plunder my turnip field, or was there something else?” Claude asked her.

“There  _ was _ something, but I’m not sure if you deserve it now. After all, I’ve been demoted. Hmph, I think I’ll give your present to Edelgard instead.”

Edelgard jolted at her name, giving Hilda an inscrutable look.

“A gift? Aw, how sweet of you. I take it back Hilda, you know there’s no one else in my heart but you,” Claude pulled one of  _ her _ stunts, batting his eyelashes. He pouted, his fuzzy deer ears lowering. “Can you forgive me?”

_ Oh no, _ Hilda thought,  _ he knows about my crippling weakness for cute things! _

“‘No one else in my heart but you’? Why Claude, I’m hurt,” Edelgard deadpanned.

Dimitri brought a hand to cover his smile. “Indeed Claude, was your speech of friendship nothing but empty platitudes? Here I thought we were special.”

“Oh sure, sure. But don’t friends get presents for friends? You two haven’t given me anything, so my heart is only open to Hilda. And Dedue; he gifted us all breakfast.”

“You haven’t given  _ us  _ anything either,” Edelgard said, a small smile teasing her lips.

“Incorrect! I gave both of you a beautiful speech of friendship, of course.”

Hilda snorted. It was odd to see Claude so relaxed. Hilda didn’t know Claude very well. No one did, as far as she could tell. It was hard to, considering he appeared out of thin air a year ago. Claude was a master at talking for hours without letting a single personal detail slip. Still, she liked to think she knew him better than most. She certainly enjoyed hanging out with him— things were always interesting when he was involved. The relaxed attitude he carried now was nothing like his usual mask. Goddess forbid, but she was fairly certain Claude was  _ genuinely _ relaxed.

“Hilda, this isn’t a fake present, is it?  _ ‘Claude, I gift you with my weed pulling duties!’” _

Hilda rolled her eyes. “Keep that up and it will be. Hmph, I think I really will give your gift to Edelgard.” Hilda pulled out the little hair clip she had made, presenting it to Edelgard. Claude frowned. Hilda had to bite back a snort at the look— it was hard to take him seriously when he pouted. Especially now with those adorable ears and his adorable freckles and the adorable— she needed to stop thinking about how cute Claude’s animal traits made him.

“Thank you Hilda. You didn’t need to do this,” Edelgard murmured, turning the clip over in her hands. She shared a coy smile. “I’m glad you decided to give this to me instead of Claude. The coloring would clash on him.” Weaved into the silver clip was a lavender ribbon— a perfect match for Edelgard’s hair. The color matched perfectly with the two ribbons Edelgard usually wore in her hair already. But the part she was really proud of was the vivid lavender feather on the end. She had actually gotten the feather from Petra— apparently they had colorful birds in Brigid.

“Yeeeeah Hilda, I’m calling your bluff. You totally made that for Edelgard and not me.”

“Fine, fine. You got me, you shot down my paper-thin excuse. Proud?” She pulled out Claude’s actual gift. It wasn’t much— a yellow ribbon with black embroidery.

Claude accepted her present with a mock bow. He peered down at it, frowning. “Not to sound ungrateful, but what is this? Too thin to be a headwrap, but too long to tie in my hair…” 

Hilda took it from him, wrapping it around a section of his antler. “Ta-da! You know, your antlers would look super cute if you ever decide to pierce them.”

Claude grinned, turning to Edelgard and Dimitri to preen. “Well? How do I look?” Claude turned to her again. “What, nothing for Dimitri? Playing favorites here aren’t you.”

“Claude, please don’t. I don’t need anything— I don’t even wear jewelry.”

“Act-ually, I  _ did _ make something for Dimitri. I didn’t want to lose it though, so I gave it to Dedue.” She turned her doe eyes on Dedue. “You still have it? Don’t tell me you lost it.” If her hunch was correct, Dedue had been too embarrassed to give Dimitri the gift yet.

Dedue jolted. “Ah, yes. I still have it.” Dedue reached into a pocket at his side, pulling out the gold band. Hilda was surprised he kept it on him. He passed it over to Dimitri.

Dimitri examined it, a small smile forming. “A lion? Well, I suppose it is appropriate. Thank you, Dedue, Hilda.”

“Thank Hilda, not me. She made it.”

“D’aww, learn to take some credit once in awhile Dedue! But you’re welcome Dimitri, I’m glad you like it!”

Claude stood up, disentangling himself from the other two and cracking his back. He yawned and stretched. Hilda’s eyes were drawn down to Claude’s hooves. She didn’t want to stare, but at the same time… Despite the days she had to get used to it, it was still an odd sight to see him on four legs. 

“I hear a certain someone is getting some shiny new shoes on Friday,” Hilda cooed at him

He tossed back his head. “Ugh, don’t remind me.”

“No need to be a baby Claude,” Edelgard chided, though Hilda took careful note of her fond tone. “You have nothing to worry about. I’ll even hold your hand if you want.”

“Oh hush you. I’m allowed to feel a little uncomfortable about hot spikes of metal being jabbed into my feet in an experimental procedure.” He rolled his eyes and cocked a smile, but Hilda realized he was  _ actually  _ nervous about it. If he was nervous enough that she could tell, that meant he was  _ really _ nervous about it.

“Nothing will go wrong,” Edelgard insisted.

“And if the farrier does harm you, I’ll end her life myself,” Dimitri muttered darkly. It was only years of social experience that kept Hilda from gaping wide-eyed at the usually mild-mannered prince.

“But it  _ won’t come down to that,” _ Edelgard insisted again.

“Got it, got it. I’ll just be happy when it’s all over with.”

“Hey, I’ve got an idea!” Hilda announced. She wanted something to take Claude’s mind off of the procedure before it happened. “You should let me paint your hooves! I bet my nail polish would work just fine on them.” She had no idea if it would or not, but she was willing to give it a shot. It wasn’t much, but maybe the flash of color would keep his mind away from the whole ordeal.

His eyes flashed down to her currently pink nails. “I think I’ll pass.”

“C’mon, I’ve got loads of colors! Ooh, you know what, I bet I could paint cute little moons on them. Or maybe some stars? I’m thinking some sparkly gold, with a black base.” She tapped her chin, already thinking about the cute things she could do to his hooves. She had to scrap more than half of the ideas as ‘too cute’ for him to agree to, but she was sure she could convince him…

Edelgard snorted. “That would be a sight.”

“You’re welcome to join in on the fun too, Edelgard! Ooh, maybe I could make this into a girl night? I’ve been meaning to get some of the other gals together to do some fun activities like painting nails, doing our hair, that kind of thing.”

“A ‘girl’s night’? What am I doing there then?” Claude teased.

Hilda waved a hand. “You’d be the canvas to paint on, of course!” Then she realized the one thing that she had forgotten. “Oh, Dimitri could come too!” She batted her doe-eyes at the prince. “Ever had your nails done, Your Highness? It’s looooads of fun! Tell him Edelgard, I’m sure you’ve had yours done plenty of times!”

“Ah, I have not, actually,” Edelgard sheepishly admitted. A bit sad, but Hilda wasn’t surprised.

“That just means you totally have to come!”

“We did once, actually. When I was rather young…” Dimitri quietly admitted, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. “We made quite the mess, but it was enjoyable…”

_ That _ was a surprise. It was an adorable image to imagine. She could picture a chubby-cheeked baby Dimitri covered in colorful polish. 

“Yes! This’ll be so much fun! We can do each other’s hair too— I  _ have  _ to know if your mane is as soft as it looks, Dimitri.”

“Oh it  _ absolutely _ is,” Claude added, patting Dimitri’s head. Dimitri, for his part, looked at the floor with a light blush still on his face. But judging by the little jitter his tail made, she was pretty sure he was happy.

“I’ll have to pool my nail polish together, maybe borrow some from Mercedes. Not sure I’ll have enough black for what I’m thinking.” She slipped off the bed and grabbed one of Claude’s hooves. It wasn’t very big— much smaller than a horse hoof. She rubbed a thumb along the surface, something dried and flaky coming away. There was a ruddy brown-red color that peeled away at her touch.

“All I’m hearing is that I don’t have a say in any of this,” Claude grouched with a smile in his voice.

She frowned. “Say, Claude…” She rubbed the substance between her fingers. Then the faint smell hit her. She carefully backed up. “Um, is there a reason your hooves are covered in blood…?”

Claude flinched, pulling his hooves back. Her eyes met his, catching a genuine wince from him. Dedue startled beside her, tensing.

“It’s— it’s just mud,” Dimitri stuttered. “Iron-rich mud can look a bit like blood.”

Hilda cracked a strained smile. “Uh-huh. Does iron-rich mud also smell like blood?”

Dimitri grimaced, looking away.

Claude sighed. “We were attacked last night. I defended us. That’s all.”

“You were WHA— mmph!” 

Claude shoved a hand over her mouth. “Not so loud!” he hissed.

“We’re keeping this quiet,” Edelgard said, giving her and Dedue pointed looks. “The only other who knows is Hubert.”

“Should the knights not be informed?” Dedue asked what she was thinking.

Claude shook his head. “Absolutely not. The less people that know the safer we’ll be. Besides, we don’t know if the church is compromised.”

_ “Excuse _ me?!” Hilda gaped. 

“You didn’t mention that concern last night,” Dimitri murmured. “I think it was fairly clear the church was not a part of those who attacked us.”

“I reluctantly am forced to agree with Claude,” Edelgard said. “I know for a fact that there are individuals that have worked themselves into the trust of the church. Unfortunately, I don’t know who those individuals are.”

“Oh that’s… unsurprising, really,” Claude muttered.

“I thought you guys were inducted as Children of Sothis to  _ prevent _ this sort of thing from happening,” Hilda wheezed. She ran a hand through her hair. Claude (and the other two) had been attacked with what sounded like lethal intent. A chill sped down her spine. The monastery was  _ supposed  _ to be a safe place.

“Might I ask who this hostile faction is?” Dedue, calm as ever, asked.

The three lords exchanged a silent look. Hilda had to wonder if they could talk with their minds now— she wouldn’t be surprised at this point.

Edelgard explained to her and Dedue. About how the assailants were the same faction that kidnapped them in the first place. About how they were some sort of weird doomsday cult that had been around for centuries. About their strong ties to the Empire, about their hatred of the church. About how the three of them were prime targets now. Hilda was shrewd enough to notice that plenty of details were being skimped or left out all together.

And there were members of these people _in the monastery?!_ _Right now?!_

But so many questions she had finally slotted into place. Mostly involving the discrepancies she was told when Claude was first rescued, and the morning after when Rhea announced their return. Rhea had spun the whole ‘transformation’ thing as positive, but Hilda knew the ordeal had been anything but for the trio.

“And obviously,” Claude began with a overly fake cheer, “don’t go talking about this anywhere you might be overheard.” His ear flicked, and Hilda wasn’t sure if that was intentional or not. “Some people have very good hearing, after all.”

“How can we help?” Dedue asked.

Hilda nodded. “Yeah, what can we do? I mean, I hate work, but this is a big deal.”

“Don’t worry Hilda, I have the perfect job for you.” Claude winked. “Keep your ear to the ground for us. You can suss gossip out of people like no one else. Nowadays people tend to go quiet whenever I’m around— I’m not exactly subtle. Anything you hear that might be relevant. People acting strange, anyone sowing hostile rumors about us, weird cult practices… Can I rely on you for that?”

Hilda sighed in relief. “Phew, I was worried you were going to ask me to do something hard! I’ll be sure to relay all the gossip I can.”

Claude’s eyes darted to Dedue. “And I’m sure you hear all sorts of interesting things around the monastery, huh? You run indifferent circles than Hilda. More down to earth.”

She felt more than heard the determination in Dedue’s tone. “I am uncertain how helpful I can be on that front, but I shall do what I can.”

Dimitri bowed his head. “Thank you, both of you. Your support is no small thing.” His eyes flickered from Dedue’s to hers— they oozed an intense sincerity. 

“Having people we can trust and count on is what really matters at the moment,” Edelgard added. Hilda was in over her head. Still, she wasn’t about to back down. Things  _ were _ always interesting around Claude… Too interesting at this point, but she wasn’t going to back down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol Hubert’s all ‘I don’t TRUST these BEASTS!’ meanwhile Dedue/Hilda have already accepted that the three lords are a package deal. ‘Thanks for keeping my lord alive,’ Dedue/Hilda say, showering everyone in gifts. Claude, your Almyran Royalty is showing with the mention of saffron… not that anyone present would pick up on that detail lol. 
> 
> Anyways, now the three retainers are all caught up on the details. Hubert already was, but I kept meaning to ring Dedue/Hilda into the fold for a few chapters now without an easy place to add it in. So they ended up getting an entire chapter for it! And their thoughts, of course. I'm hoping I got Dedue's inner voice down well. I've done GD (twice) and CF, and I'm just about to start on my BL run (unless I do GD a third time... no, I'm strong enough to resist Claude's charm, Dimitri needs me!............ but Claude ;_;) so unfortunately I haven't had much experience with Dedue since he can't be recruited.
> 
> Fun fact about Dedue’s section— I started on it a few months ago but didn’t finish it. When I started it, I got curious if the various houses had any kind of ‘food preference’ over each other. When I went to look up a list of student ‘likes and dislikes’ for food I only found incomplete charts. So… I made a google doc with every student’s likes/dislikes lol. Then I crunched the numbers by territory (Dedue, Petra, and Claude were removed for this as they are not native to Fódlan). The survey size is unfortunately small for each country, but I got a general feel for the preferences of each country. Funny enough, Faerghus and Leicester are pretty much the same when Claude/Dedue aren’t involved. I kept adding to the doc whenever I was too tired to do anything productive but wasn't tired enough to sleep, so by now I am intimately familiar with the taste palettes of every student.
> 
> Some interesting (and very useless) triva…  
-Caspar (12 likes / 14 dislikes) and Lysithea (8 likes / 18 dislikes) are tied for having the most opinions on foods (A total of 26 preferences, there are only 30 food items)  
\- Least opinionated on food would go to Ashe, who only has opinions on 12 food dishes (9 likes / 3 dislikes) *(Not including Dimitri, who cheats at a total of 7 (6 likes / 1 dislike))  
-Biggest food lover, surprisingly, goes to Leonie at a whopping 18 liked foods. Honestly I thought Ingrid or Raph would win, but nope! Also the only 3 foods Leonie dislikes are the 3 dessert dishes.  
-Most dislikes goes to, unsurprisingly, Lysithea at 18 dislikes.  
-Least amount of favorite foods is a 3-way tie between Dorothea, Lorenz, and Lysithea, only liking 8 dishes *(Again Dimitri cheats at 6 likes)  
-Least amount of dislikes is a four-way tie between Claude, Dedue, Sylvain, and Raphael at 2 disliked dishes. Honestly was surprised about Sylvain, thought he’d be a picky eater. *(Again Dimi cheats, with only 1 dislike)
> 
> Other interesting things:  
-The one food Dimitri dislikes is Peach Sorbet. I’m guessing it’s just uncomfortably cold to eat without the taste?  
-The only two things Claude dislikes are both sweets (Saghert & Creme/Sweet bun trio). He likes a little bit of everything else otherwise. Really likes his meat… ;_; Claude I’m so sorry  
-Edelgard dislikes any dish that has Wild Game in it (which there are only three? Weird considering there are 7 poultry dishes). Otherwise she’s not too picky, with only 2 other dishes she dislikes.  
-Caspar has a grudge against fish, apparently. Out of the 14 fish meals, he dislikes 13 of them. Lysithea too, considering she dislikes 12 of the fish meals. In the other corner is Leonie who loves every fish meal. Dedue also really likes fish, liking 12 of them.  
-Mercedes is surprisingly very picky. Her and Annette have nearly the exact same opinion on foods, except that Annette is less picky.  
-Hubert is the only Adrestrian to dislike any dessert dish (and Petra, but she isn't native)
> 
> (If anyone’s interested in the doc let me know lol, it’s a mess but I don’t mind sharing)
> 
> Next chapter: fluff and anxiety, the usual combo


	10. You fucked up a perfectly good deer you did. Look at him. He's got anxiety.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edelgard, the envy of ladies everywhere  
Dimitri has a sad™  
Claude has a deer-life-crisis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just went to post this and remembered, 'shit, I forgot to reply to comments on last chapter'. So uh, whoops, sorry about replying like, a month after the fact. My bad. 
> 
> Also, I am bad at deadlines. So very, very bad. But I have a (semi)good reason this time! I got slammed with new-fic-idea brain worms. I'll probably do what I did with Starlight Vomit and write it all out ahead of time, as I'm finding that works significantly better than forcing myself to meet a weekly/monthly deadline per chapter. But when it comes out (whenever that'll be) it'll be good! Very fluffy, can't wait to share. I'm going to title it: Author Experiences Existential Crisis Upon Realizing Their Writing Says Things About Them As A Person. Terrifying. But oh well. I honestly had no idea I loved Animal Transformation so much until I started writing it. I just think it's neat... And also apparently I'm incapable of writing anything without Sharing Body Heat for Warmth tropes. Legit it has factored into all three fe3h fics I've written to various extents, somehow.
> 
> Anyways. Current goal for this fic is roughly monthly updates. Finger's crossed. Find out next month if my fingers are crossed for luck or because I'm lying.

**Wednesday, 7th of Harpstring Moon**   
  


Parting from Dimitri and Claude was harder than it had ever been. She knew she was dithering. The three of them awkwardly stood outside of the Black Eagle’s classroom. Dimitri had one hand on her shoulder, the other on Claude’s. Claude had his arms crossed, his fake smile firmly in place. The only hint that he was struggling just as much as she was was the tightness in his eyes, the focus in which he stared at her and Dimitri.

She longed to give them a hug. She’d spent the whole night curled up with them— yet it wasn’t enough.

They were safe. It was highly unlikely Those Who Slither would attack again so fast, nor in broad daylight. Logic dictated they were fine. Emotion begged her to hold them tight and never let go. The irrational part of her mind repeated how she couldn’t keep them safe if she wasn’t around. About how they couldn’t keep _ her _ safe if they weren’t around. She had thought she’d handled the whole assassination attempt rather well— but now the aftermath was hitting her.

She patted Dimitri’s hand on her shoulder. He squeezed tighter. She gently pried his hand away, and he didn’t resist. Unlike Claude, his face held no mask. His eyes darted from her to the classroom door, back and forth.

She gave them a nod, no words. Walking away from them, her wings of their own volition grazed their sides as she entered the classroom.

Hubert was the only missing classmate. She was worried about him. She knew he blamed himself for not protecting her. She would need another stern conversation with him soon, lest he do something reckless and foolish in her name.

Her eyes met Ferdinand’s for a moment. He scoffed, looking away. He was still upset with her, then. She doubted he had heard the news yet. He was convinced there was no way she would be disinherited. She felt no satisfaction proving him wrong.

“Edie! Good morning. My, your wings are practically sparkling this morning!” Dorothea gave a small hum as she craned her neck around to look at the wings. “Truly stunning!” Her smile was genuine, if a touch tight. Still uncertain around the changes, if Edelgard had to guess. At least Dorothea was trying.

Edelgard nodded her thanks. “I was taught how to groom them over the weekend. As you can see, the results are quite substantial.”

“I am liking them greatly!” Petra added. “They are appearing very strong!”

“Strong _ and _ beautiful.” Dorothea gave a wink. “Must’ve been hard to reach your feathers by yourself, hmm?” There was a teasing lilt to her tone. “Or did you have help? I bet it was Hubert, he must’ve done your feathers. He _ does _ have rather long, dexterous fingers.” She wiggled her own fingers.

Edelgard’s moment of hesitation was all that was needed to make it clear Dorothea was wrong. She would prefer not to lie to her classmates wherever possible, especially not about something so trivial. Her ‘relationship’ with Claude and Dimitri was no secret, but it wasn’t exactly spoken of openly, not yet. Though according to Hilda, the gossip mill was abuzz about their constant proximity to each other. The gossip mill was abuzz about them in general, but their relationship was the real talk of the academy. Dorothea herself was surely aware of the rumors. Still, Edelgard was reluctant to speak the truth. The grooming sessions with Claude and Dimitri were personal. Intimate, though not in the way she was certain it looked to outsiders.

Dorothea tutted, despite Edelgard having said nothing. “Not Hubert then. Hmm, Dimitri? Or was it Claude? Oh, maybe both!” Dorothea threw a hand over her heart, tossing back her head. “I know you are to be the next Emperor of Adrestia—” and _ oh, _ that still stung— “but surely you didn’t need to snag them _ both? _ Don’t get me wrong, you certainly deserve two fine men such as them, but leave some for the rest of us won’t you?”

Edelgard felt her lips press into a fine line. She chose to ignore the second half of Dorothea’s statement. “It was Claude. Dimitri would sooner rip out my feathers by accident.” _ How were the two of them doing now, _ she had to wonder. Her hearing was not as sensitive as Claude’s, but surely if something happened she would hear it. _ Surely. _

“Oh, that is making sense,” Petra said. “Claude is… good people? Is that how you are saying it? Ah, Dimitri does appear kind as well. But I have been hearing tales of his strength snapping steel lances.”

Edelgard nodded. “Indeed, that would be the problem.”

“Oooh, what I wouldn’t give to have him snap _ me _ in half…” Dorothea gave a dramatic sigh.

“Why would you be wanting that? Would that not hurt?”

Edelgard leveled a look at her. “I request that you keep such thoughts to yourself.”

Dorothea lowered her eyelashes and gave a positively _ sultry _ look. “You can’t fault a girl for being jealous. Though I’m not jealous about the political nightmare the union between you three is sure to stir up. Oh, but the wedding will be the greatest celebration Fódlan has ever seen, I’m sure!”

Edelgard pinched her brow. Maybe it was just the stress from the night before, but Dorothea was beginning to grate on her nerves. “Perhaps it would be a grand celebration if such a thing were to happen. Unfortunately for you, it won’t.”

“Oh dear, having squabbles with your boyfriends already?” She was beginning to get the feeling that Dorothea was teasing her, but she couldn’t tell.

“I am sorry, but I am lost… Who is having marriage?”

Dorothea clasped her hands together and brought them to her cheek. “Why, dear Edie of course! It’s like a fairytale. The lovely princess who woos the chivalrous prince and charming duke, uniting the land for generations to come! Or perhaps it was the chivalrous prince that wooed the lovely princess and charming duke? Or was it the charming duke? I must say, I’m curious about the details…”

Edelgard sighed. “I do wish you would stop implying I’m going to marry my step-brother.”

Dorothea’s face froze mid-expression. In that moment of satisfaction, Edelgard realized the entire classroom had fallen silent. _ Ah, they were eavesdropping. _ Her relationship with Dimitri wasn’t exactly a secret… though it may as well have been for how few people knew. Edelgard herself had entirely forgotten until Dimitri reminded her. Her mother and his father were both dead as well. Their parent’s union, while technically public, had been a quiet one. 

“Wait, hold on, what?!” Caspar yelled. “Step-brother? Since when?!”

“Technically and legally, as Children of Sothis, they’re all siblings,” Linhardt muttered with a yawn.

“True, though that’s a recent development,” Edelgard said. “He’s been my step-brother for many years. We were quite close back in our youth.” She couldn’t remember much of the time she spent in Fhirdiad, but she remembered it as one of the happiest times in her life.

“I apologize for my assumptions,” Dorothea said with an apologetic look. “I wasn’t aware…”

“I cannot believe I did not know this…” she heard Ferdinand mutter to himself.

“U-um, a-a-are we talking about Dimitri or Claude?” Bernadetta squeaked, still hiding behind an open book. “Which one is the step-brother?”

“It must be Claude,” Ferdinand mused. “Were it Dimitri, I am certain everyone would know. Claude has been an unknown until recently, so it would not be outside the realm of possibility to be him.”

Edelgard kept her expression blank. They thought _ Claude _ was her step-brother? She held back a snort at the thought. She wondered how different her life would have been, had that been the case. Her uncle spiriting her away to Almyra… Maybe they would have stayed for longer than the single year she spent in Fhirdiad. Maybe she would have been brought up alongside a trouble making Claude. Maybe she could have protected him from the attempts on his life, or at least given him an ally he could trust. Maybe her uncle would have remained the loving man of her childhood memories and not the cruel one he became. Maybe her hair would have remained brown.

She let the fantasy pass. No use thinking about it.

“Well? Are we right Edie?”

Edelgard returned her focus to the present. She gave a small smile. “There would be no fun in telling you.” A handful of groans lifted her spirits. “You’re welcome to ask either of them, if you really want to know.” Then she winked. _ Goddess, _Claude was rubbing off on her.

Her heart twisted at the thought. She missed the two of them like missing limbs, and it hadn’t even been an hour.

“Edelgard.”

The voice startled her, her wings curling up and around her protectively. She whirled, her hand flying to her waist where her dagger was. Hunkering down into a defensive crouch, she was ready to lash out at whatever attacked her._ Damn, she had been so certain they wouldn’t be attacked in broad daylight! _

_ What about Dimitri and Claude? Were they okay?! _

“Good reaction speed, but entirely unnecessary,” Shamir noted.

Shamir. _ Shamir. _Edelgard gave a shaky sigh, sheathing her dagger. She lowered her wings and released the tension in her muscles. She wasn’t able to fully relax, not when she knew no one could fully be trusted in Garreg Mach, but it was enough. “My apologies. I do not appreciate being surprised.” The room was silent, aside from her heartbeat still pounding in her ears.

“Noted. Rhea requests your presence.” Edelgard carefully kept her grimace from her face. “We have received news from the Empire.”

Edelgard nodded. “Ah, about my disinheritance? Hubert informed me this morning.” She heard a few sharp intakes of breath.

Shamir nodded. “Yes, about that. Let’s go.”

As the doors began to shut behind her, she heard Ferdinand’s voice. “Surely there must be a mistake…” 

  
  


* * *

  
  


Dimitri was never truly alone.

He watched Claude’s back retreat. Watched Claude disappear into the Golden Deer classroom.

_ ‘None of his classmates can be trusted. Don’t be a fool. How long until he’s attacked?’ _

_ ‘He’s said it himself: he fears his classmates will leave a dagger in his back. What’s stopping that Gloucester boy from doing it now? You won’t be there, won’t save him.’ _

Dimitri blinked. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been blankly staring at the door. He entered his own classroom. Dedue sat on his own today, Ashe sitting beside Annette. Dimitri settled in beside Dedue, selfishly grateful that the other boy sat elsewhere.

_ ‘How long until your friends turn on you? How long until they see what my little brother does? How long before they see you as the beast you are?’ _

Dimitri rested his chin on the desk, rubbing a hand against his eyes. He used to go night after night without rest. Now a single night without sleep and he felt exhausted. His eyelids begged to sink lower, if only for a moment.

_ ‘Falling asleep again? Who will die on your watch this time?’ _

He tensed. He forced his eyes to stay open. He took his head off the desk and straightened his posture. If he imagined his spine as a rod, maybe he would remain upright.

The classroom was claustrophobic. Tight. Filled to the brim. Every seat was taken. Blank eyed faceless students crowded the room. Bloodied soldiers and Duscur innocents filled every empty space. He refused to look too closely at any of them, terrified he might see El or Claude’s blank eyes stare back.

“Your Highness, is something wrong?” The voice warbled in front of him, he couldn’t recognize it. It was hard to hear over the tide of murmurs and whispers. The voice might have been one of the ghosts too— he wasn’t sure.

_ ‘Hah, what isn’t wrong with you? Tell her Dimitri, tell her about how _ ** _wrong_ ** _ you are.’ _

“I believe his Highness mentioned that he did not sleep last night,” Dedue’s voice came from his side. How long had Dedue been there?

_ ‘Slept too long, actually. I wonder what they’d think of you if they knew how useless you were?’ _

There was a whistling sound, piercing his sensitive ears. He grunted, his ears flattening across his head. “Whoops, sorry,” someone apologized. “I didn’t think that through. No whistling, got it… Still, hot damn. How come he doesn’t get scolded? Last time _ I _was up all night with a chick I got no sympathy. Just because he’s bagged a cute deer and birdy doesn’t mean— ow! Ingrid!”

Dimitri gave a long blink, trying to piece together the meaning from what he was hearing. There was a buzz humming just behind his ears, but no one else seemed to hear it.

“Your Highness?” Dedue rested a hand on Dimitri’s shoulder. He flinched, turning to see Dedue’s concern. “Perhaps you should rest for the day.”

Dimitri was already shaking his head. “No, no. I am fine. I was merely lost in thought.” He focused, demanding himself to stay in the present. The ghosts still howled, but the living shapes of the Blue Lions solidified.

Class passed by in a haze. He took notes, but what he wrote was nonsense to him. The given lecture went in one ear and out the other, nothing sticking.

Dimitri blinked, and he realized most of the class was gone. “Would you like me to bring you lunch, Your Highness?” Dedue asked him.

Lunch? Already? It felt as though class had only just started. He wasn’t hungry, but lunch meant Claude and El would be there. He shook his head. “No, I’ll get it myself.” He stood. “But thank you for offering, Dedue,” he tacked on.

Ghosts clung to his steps, but still he felt relieved to leave the classroom. The air was good. Open space was good. Sunlight was good. And as soon as he could confirm that El and Claude were fine (because of course they were, he was just being paranoid,) everything would be fine.

And yet, standing in the dining hall, he didn’t see either of them.

_ ‘Perhaps they were kidnapped. After all, they didn’t have you around to do anything. Not that you would have helped anyways.’ _

He scanned the dining hall for a fourth time. Where were they?

_ ‘Maybe they’re dead. Or maybe they hate you. Claude was oh so upset last night. Is it any stretch to believe he no longer desires to be around you?’ _

No. That wasn’t right. Claude had forgiven him. Claude wasn’t angry at him anymore.

_ ‘How would you know? He’s an excellent liar. He’s lying to you. He hates you. El does too, remember? They both hate you.’ _

“That’s not true…” Dimitri murmured to himself. “There must be an explanation…”

There were too many people around. Dimitri left the dining hall. Perhaps Claude and El had been tired, and retired to the room? Dimitri himself felt exhausted. There had to be a reason… 

_ ‘You really don’t care about any of us anymore, do you?’ _ Glenn sneered. _ ‘Gone and replaced us. Didn’t you promise you would avenge us? What happened to honoring your word? What happened to giving us justice?’ _

“I haven’t forgotten,” Dimitri whispered to the shade. “It will be done. I promise. Surely you can be patient?”

The dead roared at his plea. They screamed and clutched at him. His ears pressed flat against his head, but it did nothing to block out the sound.

The dorm hallway was packed wall to wall with the screaming dead.

_ ‘How dare you! You are no son of mine! Have we not suffered long enough already?!’ _

_ ‘Pathetic, wretched child! You should have been drowned at birth!’ _

_ ‘I regret that it was for _ ** _you_ ** _ that I died for. If I ever knew how weak-willed you were deep down, I never would have taken that blade.’ _

They were so loud, so _ angry. _ Were they so angry because he had been ignoring them? That had to be it. What a fool he was. They had every right to be angry with him. Before, they weren’t always angry. Sometimes Glen would comment on his lance form. Sometimes his stepmother would tut about his hair, bemoaning that she couldn’t fix it for him. Sometimes father would wax bittersweet regrets about not being alive to watch him grow. As much as they pushed him to end their suffering, sometimes they still behaved how he remembered them in life.

There was no compassion in their stares now. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, a bare hint of a sound. He was drowned out by shouts.

He stumbled into Claude’s room, desperate to hide away from the shouting. Claude and El always eased the voices. Their presence always kept the angry dead patient.

But neither were in the room. No one was. Just him. Him and the restless dead.

Not here. Not at the dining hall. Where were they? Were they alright? Why… 

_ ‘I told you. They hate you. They hate the beast they now see in you.’ _

_ ‘When did you come to hate us so?’ _ father murmured, drifting to cup Dimitri’s cheeks in cold and wispy hands. _ ‘You flee from us. Flee from your duty. You deny us our vengeance, our rest. Does my son truly hate me so? Was I a lacking father to you?’ _

Dimitri shook his head. “No, no, that is not it! I was not running! I will bring you all your vengeance, I promise…!” 

_ ‘You are nothing but an ungrateful coward. And now your cowardice has led to the death of two more loved ones. Why else would you be unable to find your ‘siblings’ that you claim to love so? They are dead.’ _

“There must be a reason. The monastery would be up in arms if something happened…”

_ ‘Yet they knew nothing of the attack last night. Why would today be any different? You’ve failed them, my son. You always fail those you love.’ _

“No… please, no…” He couldn’t bear to look across the crowd of ghosts in the room for the familiar faces. The room was so full, so cluttered, fit to bursting. Usually when they grew demanding, he would train at the training grounds until he couldn’t feel anything. 

But that would just be running away again, wouldn’t it?

He sat at the foot of the bed, pulling Claude’s quilt over himself. He brought it to his nose and inhaled. Their three mixed scents washed over him, grounding him. The voices remained. He let them yell at him, berate him, pick him apart. He deserved it for how long he had been avoiding them. His suffering was nothing compared to theirs.

* * *

Before he had been kidnapped, Claude held a fondness for deer. His favorite animals still were and always would be wyverns of course— but deer were nimble and cautious creatures. A deer was very difficult to sneak up on, nearly impossible to catch unaware. 

The capital where Claude grew up didn’t have deer, but the eastern pine forests of Almyra did. The first time his father took him hunting had been an eye opener. Even at his young age he had been a deft hand with a bow and an excellent marksman. He had been confident in his abilities to land his arrow in his prey. At a distance he had sniped the deer— tried to, at least. He had been shocked to realize the deer had known he had been there the entire time. It heard the whiz of his arrow and deftly dodged out of the way, bolting farther than Claude could follow. _ That _ was when he grew respect for deer. They were always listening, always alert for danger. Always prepared to run to live another day. In that sense, he felt a bit of kinship with them.

Now that he _ was _ one, at least partially, he was growing to resent deer on a whole. Claude now knew that deer were always alert because they were _ nervous wrecks riddled with anxiety. _ Deer were constantly _ afraid _ and _ scared. _ He was a deer now, and that meant _ he _ was constantly afraid and scared.

Claude knew fear intimately. Fear had been his constant companion growing up in Almyra. He knew how to weaponize that kind of fear, how to let it simmer under his skin and keep him safe. He knew how to live with it— he’d lived with it his entire life. He knew how to hide it behind masks, how to keep it hidden behind locked doors. He knew how to work through the fear, leading some to think him fearless. He was always afraid. Afraid he would be caught unaware. Afraid his identity would be found out. Afraid he’d die a useless death, leaving his dreams to crumble. Afraid to die.

Was it even fear that he felt anymore? A caution thrumming so deep as to be written into his bones and channel through him the same as his blood. Fear wasn’t the correct word, not anymore. What is fear when it becomes the norm, when it becomes more a comfort than distress?

Claude was always afraid, and by that metric he was never afraid. He faced down deadly situations with the same smirk as he might face down a meal in the dining hall. After all, at least a deadly situation had the gall to be upfront about it— poisoning a meal was just as easy and far more subtle.

Claude’s fear didn’t rule him— he ruled it.

Or at least, that was how it used to be.

His ears swiveled back and forth, listening and listening and listening. His legs thrummed with the need to carry him somewhere safe, somewhere away from all of these _ dangerous people, any one of them could be a spy, any one of them could— _

Claude knew how to deal with human fear. He knew how to deal with the primal fear of survival. 

This new fear was senseless. He wasn’t afraid of shadows in the dark (any more than usual, at least). He wasn’t afraid of being attacked (again, any more than usual). He was just _ afraid. _ There was no reason for it. He didn’t feel safe. He felt alone and vulnerable. 

Hilda smacked one of his ears. “Can you stop that already? It’s annoying.”

At least he had Hilda. She helped a little. He gave her a sheepish grin. “Sorry, no can do. Can’t really control these things yet. I assure you, it’s more annoying for me than it is for you.” He cut himself off with a yawn, oddly enough. He wasn’t tired or bored, so he wasn’t sure why… 

The classroom echoed with noise. No one was being particularly loud, but with his ears as they were the entire class might as well have been shouting. He felt the urge to tug his ears down and slam his hands over them— but that would be even worse of a tell than what his ears were already doing. 

He yawned again.

“U-um, Claude, umm…” Marianne stood staring at her feet, “ a-are you feeling okay…?”

_ Damn, _ even Marianne of all people could tell he was having issues. He tilted his head, leveling an easy smile at her. “Yeah, I’m good. Ignore my ears, they have a mind of their own.” For a third time, he yawned. It was beginning to get annoying. “Don’t feel tired at all, so I’m not sure why I keep yawning.”

Marianne sat down on the bench beside him, maintaining a respectable distance. She looked down at her hands, not meeting his eyes. “Um, Claude…” she whispered, too quiet for Hilda or anyone else to hear. “I think you’re stress yawning… it’s a c-common behavior in horses and deer…”

Claude winced. Because his body hated him, he yawned again. “Got any tips on stopping it?” he whispered back.

“Well… when a horse gets upset, usually it’s because of their diet, or because they’re cooped up, or if there’s a predator nearby… actually there are a lot of reasons… but you aren’t a horse. I don’t know…”

“And what do horses do when they’re stressed about homework, hm?” he whispered back with a grin. Unfortunately, his ears were still going haywire.

Marianne fidgeted. “W-well… if the stressor can’t be removed, um, I usually give the horse a snack, like an apple or carrot. Or I’ll give the horse a nice petting, or maybe comb their fur. I usually talk to the horse, since they like to hear a calm voice. Ferdinand says he sings to his horse when she gets upset…” Marianne flinched, flushing slightly. “B-but that’s for a horse! I… don’t know how to help you. I’m sorry I’m useless…”

Claude shook his head. “Hey, don’t say that! Maybe someone’s got an apple I can beg off of them…” though he wasn’t hungry at all. In fact, his stomach was aflutter with nerves. “Eh, maybe not.”

“What’cha talking about?” Hilda leaned into his space, laying her head down on his portion of the desk.

“Nothing much, just—” 

Claude was interrupted by a loud _ crash. _ He gave a violent flinch as terror shot down his spine. He only barely prevented himself from up and bolting from the room entirely. Instead he forced himself to remain glued to the bench, white knuckles latched onto the desk. With grit teeth, he turned his head to where the sound had come from.

“Whoops! My bad, sorry Ignatz!” Raphael boomed, sheepishly picking up a pile of fallen books.

Just some books. That was all. He was _ fine, dammit. _

He forced his face to relax, unclenching his jaw and easing into his usual grin. He couldn’t convince himself to let go of the table, though. He let out a long breath. His pulse was galloping a mile a minute.

“Um, Claude, can I try something…? I-it probably won’t work… Oh, I shouldn’t have said anything—”

“Marianne, if you’ve got literally _ any _ idea, I’m willing to try it out at this point,” Claude didn’t quite plead, but he was getting close.

“Oh, um, okay…”

Very, very gingerly, Marianne placed her hand on the fur of his back. It was a struggle not to tense under her hand, but Claude knew if he so much as made a peep she would lose confidence. She met his eyes. He nodded, giving her the go ahead.

Marianne began to stroke down his back. It was nice, he had to admit, but he was still too tense to enjoy it.

“Ooh! Don’t mind if I join in too!” Hilda declared, her less gentle hand petting a bit more forcefully down his back. “Wow, I was totally right!” Hilda leaned in closer to Claude, smug lilt to her lips. “I cannot _ believe _ you haven’t let me pet you yet. You’re so soft!”

Claude rolled his eyes. “Jealous?”

“For real? Yeah, a little bit.”

Claude snorted. He propped his head up on his hands, his eyelids halfway drooping. He had to admit, he could see why Marianne did this to calm down horses. It _ was _ very calming. Marianne’s touch was, anyways. Her gentle ministrations along his back soothed the tension right out of him. _ Hilda’s _ hands, on the other hand, were scratching at his back like he was a cat. Not very calming, but it still felt nice.

_ Finally _ his ears calmed down. They were still upright, listening for potential danger, but at least they weren’t twitching every which-way.

“Goddess above, what are you two _ doing?” _ Lorenz’s scandalized voice called. Peering over at the noble, Claude could see that, unfortunately, his screech was directed at them.

“Lorenz, you won’t _ believe _ how soft and fuzzy Claude’s fur is!” Hilda cooed.

Lorenz grew a rosy coloring to his cheeks. “Hilda! That is quite improper! And Marianne, I am astonished to see you indulging in the same practice!”

Marianne’s hands stalled. Claude heard her suck in a breath, shrinking in on herself.

“I asked her to. Calm down,” Claude drawled. “Can you blame me for showing off?” He winked. “Like Hilda said, I’ve got the softest fur. Who am I to deny others the wonder of soft fur?” Lorenz’s face grew pinched in a way Claude was becoming familiar with. It was Lorenz’s ‘Claude is wrong about something but I am no longer allowed to contradict him’ face. Claude wiggled his tail. “If you have any doubts, you’re welcome to feel my fur for yourself.”

Focusing on teasing Lorenz was much better than letting the anxiety eat him alive.

“Wow, can I feel?” Raphael asked, looking like someone just promised him a puppy.

“Knock yourself out buddy.”

Raphael, much like Marianne, was very careful as he ran a hand down Claude’s back. “You feel just like a real deer! Hey, Claude, does being pet feel nice? I’ve always wondered how it felt on the other side!”

“It’s not too different than someone scratching my back,” Claude replied with a shrug. “Certainly nice though.” He looked at the rest of the class. “Any other takers? C’mon, Lysithea, I can see it in your eyes.”

Lysithea huffed, crossing her arms and turning her head away. “Please, I’m no child excited at the prospect of a chance to pet an animal.”

“Your loss.”

Eventually class started. Raphael retook his seat beside Ignatz. Marianne, however, remained by his side. Throughout the entire lesson she continued to stroke down his back in a comfortable rhythm. He understood why she was so good around animals now— something about her very presence oozed a comforting aura. The _ damned _ skittish deer in him finally left him in peace. He was still alert— he wasn’t sure if he could _ not _ be alert at this point— but at least now he wasn’t vibrating out of his skin.

It was _ very _ relaxing…

His thoughts drifted, the lecture fading into the background. He wondered how Edelgard and Dimitri were doing. They had all been reluctant to part in the morning, but the two of them had to be doing better than Claude’s anxiety-ridden mess.

It was a bit funny in the way their ‘animal instincts’ had changed things. Funny wasn’t the right word for it. For Claude, other than a handful of annoyances (his skittishness and anxiety) his deerisms were mostly physical. Dimitri resembled his human self the most out of the three of them, but his mental ‘urges’ seemed much stronger than Claude or Edelgard’s. His protectiveness, his playfulness, his little catisms… But then again, Claude couldn’t say how much of that all was new and how much wasn’t. Claude hadn’t known Dimitri well before this all began. Edelgard had a few ‘nesting’ instincts, as she called them, but otherwise seemed much more in control of herself.

He wondered if maybe she was doing better than him and Dimitri due to going through horrifying body-altering experiments before. 

No. He knew better than that. She was merely hiding her trauma better. Claude was still processing his— he knew he would be for a while. The experience wasn’t something anyone would be able to ‘get over’. But he was well on his way to coming to terms with it.

Edelgard had experience hiding this sort of pain. What she said— and more tellingly, what she _ didn’t _ say— left him with no doubt on the matter. But Claude knew that trauma did not beget strength. Sure, hardship could forge a person to be stronger. But people weren’t weapons to be heated and slammed into a shape. Claude liked to think his rough childhood had evenly tempered him. It wasn’t the great defining event like Dimitri and Edelgard’s traumas— his was omnipresent. For Claude, there was no single blow to sharpen him. Instead it had been small needles, forcing him to grow in an awkward shape to avoid dangers like a plant forced to grow between cobblestones and treading feet. Or something. His metaphor was getting away from him… 

The point was, trauma didn’t make people stronger or hardier. It made people _ brittle. _ Tough as glass. Anything that didn’t break the glass would bounce off harmlessly. But anything that _ did _ harm the glass would cause it to shatter into a million, million tiny pieces. 

Claude liked to think he was a willow tree. Perhaps his bark was not as hard as glass. But when hardship came blowing, he bent with it. When it was gone, he could stand upright the same as always. He didn’t let it blow him down. When people hammered at his trunk, he endured— and when they were gone, the bark regrew.

But Edelgard and Dimitri were not trees. They were glass. Very hard glass, but glass nonetheless. A morbid part of him was curious about what they would look like if something caused them to shatter— a curiosity he hoped he never found an answer to.

Something shook his shoulder.

He peeled his eyes open. He realized he had halfway dozed off, head still propped up on his elbows. No wonder he was thinking in weird metaphors. 

Hilda plonked something down on the desk in front of him. “You were so peacefully sleeping that we didn’t want to wake you. Raphael went and got some food for you— wasn’t that nice of him? It’s lunch, by the way.”

Claude shook his head, waking himself up. He hadn’t been that tired… but thinking back on it, he realized he hadn’t fully fallen asleep. Despite his thoughts being busy, he remembered hearing the shuffle of students and the opening and closing of the door. His ears never really turned off, not even when he was asleep. _ No wonder deer were impossible to sneak up on. _ He gave a languid stretch of his arms. “I’ll have to thank him when he gets back.”

He tucked into his food. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he could swear he was forgetting about something… 

_ Dimitri and El. _ Of course. The three of them always ate lunch together. 

They would be fine. He was feeling downright relaxed in the classroom, and he was certain the moment he stepped <strike>foot</strike> hoof outside his anxiety would flair again. El and Dimitri had each other. If they missed him, they could just ask someone where he was and visit the classroom.

When class resumed and they didn’t visit, something tickled the back of his mind. _ Maybe they enjoyed a break from him… _Or perhaps they assumed he wanted a little space. Reluctantly, he actually did want a little space from Dimitri. Logically, at least. In his heart he desperately wanted to hug both of them. But some space would do him good. It would give him a clean chance to reflect and digest everything from the night prior. He wasn’t angry at Dimitri anymore, but he still needed to consider Dimitri’s demeanor shift.

Considering how little time they had spent apart since returning to the monastery, a break was probably a good thing. Even if it grated at him with an ache in his chest. Even if distance felt unsafe. Even if distance meant he wasn’t protected. But it was the irrational thoughts like those that he needed to examine in himself.

After all, they couldn’t remain conjoined at the hip forever. Someday their ambitions would see them parting. Maybe not permanently— the thought of never seeing either of them ever again was like a physical wound with how much it hurt— but there would be times where distance would force them apart. Claude would have to return to Almyra someday. Dimitri had Faerghus to take care of (probably). And El would take over the church, providing they could manage it.

Besides. He would see them at dinner. It was fine. All he had to do was finish class, play a game of chess with Sylvain, and then the rest of his day was free.

They could find him if they needed him in the meantime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Claude: Haha I wonder what a breakdown would look like for Dimitri and Edelgard...  
Dimitri: *Emotional breakdown!*  
Claude: Good thing that won't happen. Everything's fine.
> 
> Whoops… I'm so sorry Dimitri. At least Edelgard's having a decent(ish) day? Maybe? Depending on how her chat w/ Rhea goes... 2 more chapters to wrap up the current ‘assassination’ side plot. Then we’ll be back to more fluffy animal shenanigans. 
> 
> Here's to hoping that Animal Crossing won't wreck my productivity. Side note: on my island I have a blue deer named Bam and a yellow lion named Rex, which is low key very dmcl. Now I just need to find an eagle...
> 
> Next chapter: El gets some one on one chitchat time with Rhea. Claude plays some chess ;) Dimitri gets lonely ;(


	11. *Slaps fic* This bad boy can fit so many sibling dynamics in it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude learns about a school-wide bet. Edelgard and Rhea have The Talk™ (no, not that one). Sylvain's heart is in the right place, and also he might be a furry? Someone has an Angry™ (and it's not who you think this time)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's coming out EARLY, BBY! Not only that, but I've got the next few chapters written too, which huzza! is very good.
> 
> There's a very, very good reason this chapter is out early. You see. I am not, as one might say... 'immune to bribes' 
> 
> I BRING GIFTS! FANART! *O*
> 
> [Chibi Deer!Claude](https://mobile.twitter.com/Oculus_SGD/status/1242112359730237441) by Shir0_Tamaya
> 
> [Deer!Claude](https://mobile.twitter.com/DeerSketchbook/status/1243072765453832192), [Dimitri picking up Claude](https://mobile.twitter.com/DeerSketchbook/status/1246363822341971968), [Fluffy Claude](https://mobile.twitter.com/DeerSketchbook/status/1241619728994623488) by Golden Deer Sketchbook (I don't actually have a Twitter, so sorry I didn't comment/like there u_u)
> 
> For real though, thank you so much to both of the artists. I will now Die For You Both. So technically wasn't 'bribed', but I'll be honest about the fact that seeing these drawings, *drawings made about something I wrote*, really hit me hard. Both in the heart and in the motivation center, lol. Especially the motivation center. This chapter is brought to you all 2 weeks early because of that.

**Wednesday, 7th of Harpstring Moon**

**(Afternoon)**

  
  


Claude meandered his way over to the gardens with Hilda chattering by his side. The monastery seemed to finally be getting used to his odd appearance, though he still received more looks than not.

“Hey! You!” someone shouted. Glancing up, Claude realized the shout was directed at him. He kept his stance relaxed. Being relaxed didn’t mean he wasn’t ready to gore an attacker, though. Not that he was planning on goring anyone unless it was a last resort.

Someone with bright blue hair stomped up to him (Caspar was his name, right?), dragging with him a half-asleep Linhardt. Another girl with light purple hair (Bernadetta?) tugged on his other arm, whispering frantically. _ Wow, _ he thought, _ someone more anxious than me. _

“Hey Casp, hey Bernie! Linny!” Hilda greeted them. “What’s up?”

“N-nothing! Nothing at all, nope! We were just, um, just g-going in a d-d-different direction. R-right, Caspar? Right?!”

Caspar frowned at her. “Huh? No, I’m going in this direction. What're you talking about?” He turned back to Claude, his face shifting to something angry. “You! You’re the guy I want to talk to!”

Hilda rolled her eyes. “This is about the ‘brother’ thing, isn’t it.”

“Yeah! Everyone else is too much of a coward to ask! But not me!”

“That’s not true,” Linhardt corrected with a yawn. “Asking Claude is just a waste of time. Expecting a straightforward answer out of him is asking for too much. No offense, of course.”

“None taken. I take pride in being a hard nut to crack.” He winked.

“Psh, no way am I going to wait for someone to find Prince Dimitri when Claude’s right here! No one even knows where he is.”

Claude raised an eyebrow at that. “Dedue said he wasn’t feeling too well,” Hilda informed him, “so he went to get some rest at lunch. Must’ve fallen asleep, since he missed the rest of class.” Made sense. Claude knew Dimitri was still a bit shaken up about the night prior (they all were). He probably had El with him by now.

“I don’t care!” Caspar took a step forward, uncomfortably close. He jabbed a finger at Claude’s chest. “So tell me! Is it you?”

“No idea,” he immediately replied.

“Aaah!” Bernadetta shrieked. Claude winced at the loud noise. “We’ve annoyed him, now he’s going to— to— curse us or something! Or smite us! No, no, no… Bernie’s too young to die…!”

Claude glanced at Hilda, unsure how to reply. “Don’t worry, she’s like that with everyone,” Hilda said with a shrug. “Don’t worry Bernie! Claude’s too sweet to smite anyone!”

Claude rolled his eyes. “‘Sweet’? Really? C’mon Hilda, I’ve got a reputation to maintain.”

“Yeah, yeah. I remember when you poisoned Lorenz before school started. But that’s poisoning. Smiting’s a whole different thing.”

“Alright, I’ll concede that point.”

“You’re going to _ poison _ me?!” Bernadetta shrieked, sending another bolt of pain through his ears.

“Only if you deserve it,” he replied with a wink. Which was apparently the wrong thing to say. Bernadetta paled and fainted. Claude stared dumbly at where she slumped on the ground. “Er… I wasn’t being serious.”

Linhardt flopped on the ground beside her. “She does this all the time.” And then he… fell asleep?

And Claude thought the Golden Deer were the weird ones…

Glancing back at the last standing Black Eagle, it appeared Caspar was about ready to fly off the handle. “Answer my question already! Are you Edelgard’s brother or not?!”

Claude raised an eyebrow. “Not by blood, no… but otherwise, yes.”

Caspar’s eyes widened. “I knew it! Ha! Take _ that _ Linhardt, I was _ right!” _ He jabbed a finger at the passed out Linhardt. “I told you! Hey! Guys! I was right! Peryton wins, gryphon loses!” Caspar raced off to yell at some other students.

Claude glanced at Hilda, who was leaning against a tree looking amused. “Can I get some context…?”

Hilda shrugged. “Apparently the Black Eagles found out that Edelgard has a step-brother, but no one knows if it’s you or Dimitri. People are placing bets on it. It’s like two whole factions sprung up over lunch, you wouldn’t _ believe _it. Those who think you’re Edelgard’s step-brother are betting on ‘peryton’; you know, half-deer half-bird creatures. Those who think it’s Prince Dimitri are betting on ‘gryphon’.”

“And all this happened over the course of a single lunch period…?”

Hilda scoffed. “Don’t underestimate the speed of gossip. Now, I have _ got _ to know. Is it really you? Popular opinion is on peryton.”

He leaned close to whisper to her. “Did you place any bets?”

She winked. “Something like that. Figured it couldn’t be you. You and Edelgard didn’t meet until the start of the school year. Which, I mean, this _ could _ be a secret of yours, but I doubt it. Well?”

“I’ll tell you if you split your winnings.”

She scoffed. “Why? You don’t need the money.”

“Neither do you. 50/50 split.”

“Whatever. 30/70”

“45/55.”

“I can just ask Dimitri for free, you know.”

“Not if I tell him not to tell you.”

“You’re busy with your ‘chess date’ with Sylvain. I’ll go ask him right now.”

Claude shrugged. “Be my guest. Just don’t wake him up if he’s asleep.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


“Edelgard. Please, take a seat. Tea?”

Again they were on Rhea’s balcony. Again traditional seats had been done away with in favor of cushions. At least this time there was no spread of weird foods. She accepted the offer of tea, no matter how little she desired to drink anything the archbishop gave her. She needed to curry favor with Rhea, no matter how revolting the idea.

Angelica tea. Known for cleansing properties. Angelica, said to be an ‘unearthly’ vegetable. Supposedly grown from the blood of fallen heroes. Often used in salads. Edelgard tried not to look into potential meanings at the archbishop’s choice. Perhaps it was merely a tea Rhea enjoyed.

It was a good sign that Rhea did not serve Seiros tea. Personally, Edelgard had always found Seiros tea to be ironic. The leaves were harvested somewhere south of Almyra. Outside of Fódlan it wasn’t even called Seiros tea. On principle, Edelgard disliked the tea, though in reality it was nothing but black tea. She enjoyed most black teas. Even better was the fact that Rhea hadn’t served 4-spice blend. An awful novelty tea ‘based on the four saints’ that Edelgard had never met anyone who claimed to actually enjoy the stuff. Tea of the Saints would have been an outright insult to serve to nobility, being a cost-efficient tea for commoners.

Angelica was fine. She added honey to it anyways.

“You wished to see me?”

Rhea offered her what was probably supposed to be a kindly smile. “Indeed. It saddens my heart to deliver this news, but the Empire has officially disinherited you. I know this must be hard to hear.”

Edelgard nodded, giving no outward change in her expression. “I expected it.”

“It is a shame that your father cannot see the gift the Goddess has blessed you with. The Goddess will punish him accordingly, whether in life or in death. But perhaps this is Her will. You will always have a place within the church, my dear child.”

Edelgard steadied herself, refusing to let Rhea’s threats towards her father outwardly faze her. She graced Rhea with a small smile. “Thank you, Lady Rhea. The support of the Church means a great deal to me. I must profess, I do not know what to do with myself anymore… I have been training for leadership for much of my life. And now I have nothing.”

Rhea cupped Edelgard’s chin. She barely kept herself from flinching. “You do not have nothing, dear child. Perhaps you are a sign from the Goddess that it is time I consider stepping down.”

Edelgard swallowed. _ This _ was what they wanted. _ This _ was what Edelgard assumed she would have to fight tooth and nail to even have a chance at. There was _ no way _ Rhea was considering just _ giving _ it to her. “What are you implying?”

“You know that I wish for you to become a pillar of support for the Church, to ensure peace in Fódlan.” Rhea gave her a smile. This one was different. _ Sad. _ “I may not look it, but I am rather old.” _ An understatement. _“I have told you that the Goddess favors you. She gifted you with her personal crest. I had considered… another… to take my place, but I believe the signs favor you instead, should you wish it.” Rhea hummed, nodding to herself. “Yes, she has shown clear favor towards you. You do not have to accept now, if you desire time to think it over.”

Edelgard, not for the first time, wondered what these nonsensical ‘signs’ were that Rhea put so much faith into. “This is a lot to think over. If I may ask, who else did you consider?” Edelgard had a feeling she knew the answer, though she didn’t understand _ why. _

“I suppose if you are to be my successor, you deserve to know. I had a daughter once, though that knowledge is known only to me.”

A _ ‘daughter’. _ Sure. Just like the rest of the archbishop’s ‘daughters’ throughout history. 

Rhea looked down at her tea, her smile falling. “She was a very frail woman. She was not blessed with vitality, but rather blessed with an unheard of crest. One that you yourself possess.”

“The Crest of Seiros. Throughout history, most archbishops have had her crest.” Edelgard was ready for Rhea’s fake sob story about a woman that never existed.

But Rhea shook her head. “No. She did not inherit my crest.”

Edelgard’s eyes widened. “What? You’re saying—”

“My daughter possessed the Crest of Flames, yes.”

Edelgard knew her mouth was hanging open. Shock spread across her face. She couldn’t help it. _ What?! _ Why would Rhea insinuate…? _ Why…? _

“Indeed, I was quite surprised as well. A sign from the Goddess herself. But Sitri was so very frail. I took it as a personal failure. I did my best to ensure Sitri enjoyed as normal a life as she could. She was very happy. Despite my efforts to give her all she desired, she was happiest when she met another. She fell in love. She bore a child, and did not survive the birth. I thought the child was to be my redemption— the Goddess entrusting me with a second chance. But I was wrong. A fire broke out a few weeks later, and in that fire the child was lost.”

“I am sorry for your loss,” Edelgard mechanically replied. This was oddly complicated for a fake story.

“But then something miraculous happened. The three of you were blessed. And then you were returned to me by the very child I thought lost. Twenty years ago a fire took my granddaughter from me. Less than a week ago she returned by your side.”

“Byleth?!” Rhea wasn’t serious, was she? But it explained an awful lot. Did she _ actually _ have a daughter, then? A dead one, yes, but a daughter nonetheless? Adopted, Edelgard had to guess. Edelgard could envision a child bearing the Crest of Flame being handed off to the archbishop, whether willingly or not.

Did this ‘Sitri’ really possess the Crest of Flames? Did Byleth…?

Edelgard was struck with nausea. She _ knew _ how the Crest of Flames was obtained. It was no blessing of the Goddess. Did that mean Rhea also…?

Yet Rhea believed their story about the Goddess herself blessing the three of them. If Rhea engaged in the same experiments as Those Who Slither, surely she would have caught their lie immediately. Whatever the case, Rhea clearly believed Edelgard’s crest was a ‘Gift of the Goddess’. She didn’t know what to think. Perhaps this ‘Sitri’ was the result of an assumed failed experiment of Those Who Slither, meant to be disposed of. Perhaps this ‘Sitri’ survived and found her way to Rhea’s care, somehow.

Or perhaps Rhea was a monster that also practiced blood experimentation. Edelgard couldn’t discount either possibility.

“Indeed. It hurts that Byleth does not know of me. I wish she would have grown up by my side. But the Goddess wills as She wills, and I am grateful for the chance I have now.”

Edelgard swallowed. “I see. I must admit, I noticed your favor towards Byleth, though I did not understand the reason. You wished to make her your successor.” Suddenly Jeralt’s distrust of Rhea had even more layers. Rhea was the man’s mother-in-law. Yet he distrusted her. That spoke volumes about the truth, in Edelgard’s opinion.

Rhea nodded. “Indeed, but I see now that perhaps I was mistaken. She has made it quite clear to me that she does not wish for such a position. I think she would make a lovely archbishop, but…” Rhea sighed, shaking her head. “It does not appear to be the will of the Goddess.”

“And so I am your second choice?”

Rhea smiled. “In truth, I think you are far more suited to lead. I sense a great potential within you. As you said, you have been trained to govern. You bear the proper crest. You have a willingness to lead. Most importantly, the Goddess Herself has vouched for you.”

_ The proper crest. _ Always with the crests. Edelgard couldn’t _ wait _ to tear down the archbishop’s crest-enforced regime. Something about that last point though, it felt more direct than a simple ‘the signs tell me this’ statement. Almost as if she had a personal conversation with the Goddess. Possible, but Edelgard ticked that as another point in the ‘Rhea is insane’ box. 

Edelgard stared down at her tea, finally braving a sip. It tasted like tea. “Why tell me any of this?”

“Wise I may be, even I am not infallible. I do not wish to build our relationship upon lies.” _Too late for that._ “I refused to trust a dear friend of mine with the truth of Sitri’s crest, and in turn he grew to distrust me when I provided no answers.” _Jeralt? _There had to be more than that to turn a loyal captain against Rhea. “This knowledge is something you will come to learn in the future either way. That I tell you now, you may view this as me placing faith in you.” Rhea took a sip of tea. “I would also request that you keep what I have told you close to your chest. I have yet to find a moment of Byleth’s to discuss with her what I have told you.” She sighed, looking past Edelgard. “Perhaps, in my older years, I have become something of a coward.”

“I think your hesitation is understandable,” Edelgard lied through her teeth.

“Thank you for understanding. Now, as I stated, I will not rush your decision. I know you must be grieving the loss of your crown still.

Edelgard shook her head. “As I said, I expected it. It does sting, yes. But I am determined to move forward. In light of you giving me a path to tread… I accept your offer, archbishop.” Edelgard could feel the cold steel of a cage binding shut around her. It was a cage she had walked herself into willingly, chains she locked onto her own wrists. Her willingness did not ease the dread of being another’s puppet again.

Rhea flashed teeth. “I am very pleased to hear this.”

Was it… that easy? Truly?

Again Edelgard was the heir to a position of evil. Again Edelgard was to be the puppet of an undying beast. She had traded her cell in the dark for a collar in the light. The worse of two evils. But that was fine. She knew what she was getting into. Her goals were unchanged, the only difference now the order in which she would achieve them. Destroy Those Who Slither, then destroy the church. 

It grated, but she would be forced to wait and see the storm Rhea would rain down on her. She would weather it, just as she had weathered all else before.

“A proper ceremony will need to be conducted. That will not be for some time, though. And this will need to be announced as well. Hm, perhaps during the Rite of Rebirth? Yes, I think that would be an excellent time. A few months for you to adjust to your current blessing first.”

“Yes, a few months would be good. Thank you for your consideration.” Unlike Rhea’s entire lack of consideration when she dumped the whole ‘Holy Trio’ on them without warning a few days ago.

“Ah, while you are here, I wish to extend my invitation to breakfast again. For yourself, Claude, and Dimitri. I quite enjoyed our last meal.”

Edelgard forced a smile. “Of course, Lady Rhea. We would be honored to accept.”

“Please, just Rhea will do. You are to be my successor, after all.” Rhea leaned forward and placed a hand on Edelgard’s cheek. “We are something of a family now. In preparing you for my position, we will be seeing each other often. You need not worry about formality with me.” Edelgard’s skin _ crawled, _ but she made sure to show no outward sign. Rhea hummed, taking on a thoughtful look. “You will need to be trained in faith magic. Tell me, do you have much education in the subject?”

Edelgard gave a fraction of the grimace she felt. _ Faith _ was not something she liked, nor was she good with the brand of magic. “Not as such. The Empire is not so pious as it once was, as I am sure you are aware…”

Rhea gave a sad smile. “Indeed. Well, I shall be happy to personally teach you.” Her face lit up, driving a spike of dread through Edelgard’s stomach. “In fact, I think it would be good to train all three of you. Would that be acceptable to you?”

Edelgard would take _ any _ excuse to not be alone with the madwoman longer than necessary. “I would like that.” _ Claude _ wouldn’t like that, but Claude also didn’t need to bootlick towards Rhea like she did. He could suffer with her. Maybe he would finally learn to properly pray. Knowing him, he would continue to mess up on purpose.

“Very well. Why, it has been many years since I have had true students!” Rhea looked downright _ excited. _ “I must profess, usually I teach acolytes already thoroughly well versed in faith magic. This will be an enjoyable change of pace.”

Edelgard’s skin crawled. _ This had better be worth it. _ “Thank you, Rhea. I shall do my best to not disappoint you.” _ Until the day I stab you through your beastly heart. _

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


“Checkmate.”

“Damn.” Sylvain eyed the board. “Looks like I’ve finally met my match. Best two out of three?”

“Of course. It’s only fair to allow you a chance to regain your honor.” Claude winked, resetting his side of the board.

“Honor? Have you met me? That’s long gone.” Sylvain bounced his eyebrows. “Just ask any lady around the school.”

“Any? Sure, I’ll ask Edelgard then. I’m sure she won’t mind.”

Sylvain deflated. “No need to be mean. That said, I’d let her swing an axe at me any day.”

“A masochist then, eh? No wonder you hang around Felix. Too much information, Gautier.”

“I just appreciate the beauty of women. Surely you can understand the appeal yourself.” Sylvain narrowed his eyes before winking. “And the appeal of men as well, judging by His Highness.”

Claude rolled his eyes. “Think what you want.”

Sylvain leaned back while Claude took his turn, resting his hands behind his neck. “So, I gotta know. What’s it like having a deer dick?”

Claude raised an eyebrow, unamused. “Asking the important questions I see. Most people go ‘Wow Claude, what’s it like having hooves?’ before they get to the nitty gritties. What’s it like having a human dick that gets no action?”

Sylvain clutched a hand to his chest. “Yeowch! My dignity! Check, by the way.”

Claude glanced back down at the board. “Hm. You stepped up your game. Trying to get me to lower my guard by losing the first round?”

Sylvain shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. Gotta say, I was pretty surprised to hear that Edelgard’s your step-sister.”

Claude bit back a snort. “I see that rumor’s already made it to the Blue Lions. You seem pretty sure it’s me and not Dimitri.”

Sylvain placed his chin on his hands. “I’m sure you’re aware, but His Highness and I go way back. I’ve known him since he was a baby. Watched him grow into a man. It’s rather funny, actually. I nearly choked on my spit when I heard him call Edelgard ‘El’. A little before the tragedy, there was a cute girl he had a crush on. Hah, he had it _ so bad _ for her.” He moved his queen out of Claude’s range. “Her name was El too. Chestnut hair, bratty little thing. I never saw her often, but His Highness went on and on about her even after she left.”

“Hm, interesting story.”

“See, that’s what I thought. Makes me wonder why the imperial heir dyed her hair and hid away in the heart of the Kingdom for a year.”

Claude shrugged. “Not sure why you’re asking me. Dimitri’s your childhood friend, isn’t he? Ask him.”

“He won’t give me the time of day anymore. Heh, he said I was a lot like you, actually. So I thought I’d see how right he was.”

“Well? What do you think?” Claude spread his hands and gave his best smirk. “From one liar to another?”

“From one liar to another, I’ll give you the truth.” Sylvain huffed. “You’ve got a good smile and a charming face. But beyond that, we’re nothing alike. Checkmate.”

Claude blinked down at the board. “Well, I’ll be damned.” He laughed. “I’ll say we’re alike in our chess skills, if nothing else.” He moved to reset his side of the board.

“Sure. So, what’s a guy like you doing banging his step-sister?”

Claude choked, dropping one of his pieces. “Excuse me?”

“C’mon, you can tell me. I won’t judge.” His eyes said he had already passed judgment.

Claude finished resetting his side of the board. He hummed. “You really don’t know Dimitri at all.”

Sylvain just cocked an eyebrow.

“You want to interrogate me. Can’t say I blame you— I’d want to interrogate me too. But this is a two-way street, you know.” He winked. “It’s a bit sad to see how little Dimitri’s friends know about him.”

“You think you know him better? You’ve known him for a month at best.”

Claude threw Sylvain a flat look. “You think he’s sleeping with me and Edelgard. How anyone could come to that assumption, about _ Dimitri, _ clearly means you don’t know him as well as you think.”

“Oh? Am I wrong? I don’t think I am.” Sylvain took one of Claude’s pawns. “I told you, he was smitten with little El. Head over heels. Probably would’ve proposed if he could’ve. But I’ve seen his gaze stray to men too.” Sylvain gave his most charming smile and winked. “You’re easy on the eyes, I’m sure you’re aware. The real kicker is what Dimitri said about you. He told me I was a lot like you, as I said.”

Claude gave a snort. “That was probably the most backwards way I’ve heard someone brag about their looks. You also said you disagreed with Dimitri about us being alike.”

Sylvain just winked. “What he told me was that he had _ ‘learned a lot’ _ from you during your _ ‘two weeks in constant close quarters’. _ Blessed by the Goddess or not, Dimitri mentioned that you were _ very _ bored. So I’m thinking the story goes like this: Three hormonal teens, just on the cusp of adulthood, trapped together for two weeks with nothing to entertain themselves with. _ Nothing… _ but each other. Dimitri gets his childhood sweetheart _ and _ her hot step-brother. Tell me I’m wrong.”

Claude couldn’t help but laugh. He took Sylvain’s queen. He gave a satisfied smirk. “You’re wrong. About everything. It’s a bit impressive how wrong you are. In fact, I don’t think you got a single detail right.”

Sylvain frowned. “Is that so?”

“Oh, did you expect a direct answer from me?” Claude winked. “That’d be too easy. Tell you what— tell me why you want to know, and I’ll tell you why you’re wrong.”

Sylvain frowned down at the board. He was down to a few pawns, his king, and two knights. “Alright. An honest answer for an honest answer then. I’m making sure you aren’t a danger to His Highness.”

Claude threw back his head and laughed. “A shovel talk? Gods, an actual shovel talk? You’re full of surprises.” Claude doubted that was the full story, but partial truths were probably the best he would get from Sylvain. Claude would know.

Sylvain shrugged. “What can I say. I’ve always done my best to look out for him where I can. He’s something like a little brother to me.”

“You’re a pretty shitty ‘older brother’ if you didn’t know Dimitri has a step-sister.”

Sylvain’s eyes went wide. “What? No, you’re pulling my leg. I would have known.”

“Ask him yourself if you want. For what it’s worth,” Claude took one of Sylvain’s knights with his king, “you aren’t the only one at this table looking out for Dimitri.” He tutted. “Can’t say I’m impressed.”

“Guess I’ll have to ask him myself, then,” he murmured, talking more to himself than Claude. He fiddled with a pawn. “I would have known.”

Claude shrugged. “Look, I don’t know the details. Sounds like it was a quiet thing. And hey, a free tip for you, since you seem convinced otherwise: struggling to survive in a frigid cell is the opposite of sexy.” Claude decided to take pity on Sylvain. “If it brings you peace of mine, I’ll give you another straight answer: none of us are having sex.”

Sylvain gave him a long look. Whatever he saw seemed to satisfy him. “It does, actually. Thanks.” Sylvain surveyed his position. He shook his head. “Guess my theory that you were secretly connected to the Empire doesn’t hold much weight now. That theory didn’t fit much anyways. You’re a slippery guy, you know that?”

Claude winked. “I try my best!”

“Guess you gotta be, for a guy who doesn’t believe in the Seiros faith.” Sylvain moved his knight forward and took Claude’s queen. “Check.”

“Wow, now that’s a pointed statement if I’ve ever heard one. You _ do _ realize I’m literally a ‘Child of Sothis’, yeah?”

“See, that’s what I don’t get. For someone being lauded as a new holy figure, you’ve got a few blasphemous habits. Not even five minutes ago you said ‘Gods’ instead of ‘Goddess’.”

Claude raised an eyebrow. “Wow, a single word and suddenly I’m a blasphemer? Not a very airtight case you’re presenting. Check.”

“I’m not saying it’s a bad thing, necessarily.” Sylvain shrugged. He fiddled with his king. “You know, Gautier territory is on the border of Sreng.”

“I’ve seen a map, yes.”

“People have been wondering who you are since the day you popped out of the woodwork. Rumors swarm around you.”

“More now than ever,” Claude agreed. “What, are you about to suggest I’m from Sreng? Creative, I’ll admit.”

Sylvain shook his head. “Oh no. I _ know _ you aren’t from Sreng. Usually we fight them, you know. But I’ve met with a few ambassadors.”

“Not going to lie, Sylvain, I have no idea where you’re going with this.”

“You won’t hear it from many people, but the world outside of Fódlan is a big place. The last time I met with their ambassadors, it wasn’t just from those of Sreng. Dagda. Morfis. Albinea.” Sylvain’s knight took Claude’s queen. “A few people from Almyra too. They were fun to chat with.”

“That so? How cultured of you.”

“At 20, you’ll cut off that little braid of your, hm? That’s the tradition as I understand it. Check.”

Claude barely froze. Just for a moment. “Not sure what you mean by that. I like my braid.”

“Look. I’ve got no issues with wherever you come from. Don’t give a damn, really.” There was something bitter in his voice. “I’m not about to go ‘speculating’ around others. So long as you don’t give me a reason to.”

Claude shook his head, scoffing. “Your ‘speculation’ is nothing. You think I haven’t heard people say things like that before?”

“I told you earlier. I’m just looking out for my old childhood friend. If I have to speak your language to do it, I’ll do it.”

“You were wrong earlier, Gautier. Checkmate.” Claude took Sylvain’s king. “We’re a lot alike. Just not in the philanderer way. Thanks for the game.”

“Anytime. Gotta say, it’s nice to have a decent opponent for once.” Sylvain winked. “Since apparently you _ are _ single, hit me up if you’re ever down for more than this.”

“You’re quite the deviant. Now who’s the Godless one?”

“Correction: Usually people say ‘heretical one’. Or ‘infidel’. Or ‘Goddess-forsaken one’, I’ve heard a few people say that one before. But ‘Godless’? Step up your game. It’s _'G__oddess’ _ in Fódlan, not Gods.” Sylvain wagged a finger, tisking. “But don’t worry.” Sylvain’s grin turned wry. “I think there’s something poetic about a heathen being one of the ‘Goddess Chosen’. I like you Claude. Not just for your looks either. Don’t give me a reason to hate you, ‘kay?” He winked again.

Claude gave a crisp smile back. “Right back at you.”

Sylvain started to put away the board. “Same time next week?”

“Depends. Are you giving me a choice?”

“Pff. You really think I’d use blackmail just to have a decent chess partner? I’m not _ that _ depraved. Didn’t you hear me?” Sylvain gave Claude a light punch on the shoulder, grinning all the while. “I think we’re gonna be great friends.”

Claude knew he had won the conversation. Sylvain had learned a lot from Claude, but plenty of it was freely given. Sylvain understanding there wasn’t an illicit relationship between the three of them was good for both parties. Claude had also let slip a nugget of information that seemed to fill a blank spot in Sylvain’s knowledge of Dimitri. Overall, most of what Claude shared wasn’t a loss for him, but rather truths about Dimitri.

The worst thing that Sylvain did was dig about his past and faith. To be fair, Claude didn’t hide his lack of faith beyond anything but the flimsiest of smokescreens. Never mind the fact he had no idea how to actually pray.

Claude had won the knowledge that Sylvain knew he was connected to Almyra. As much as it grated at him, he counted that more as a win on his side. Sylvain definitely knew even before today. He had no reason to show his card like he did, aside from some minor intimidation. Sylvain nearly gave him a heart attack, sure, but now Claude knew Sylvain knew. That itself was valuable.

He learned that either Sylvain didn’t know Dimitri _ at all, _ or Sylvain was a terrible overthinker. He figured it was a healthy dose of both, leaned in favor of being an overthinker. Through a twisted lens, Claude could see how Sylvain came to some of his conclusions. Sylvain _ had _ walked in on the three of them in bed, after all. Claude hadn’t even been wearing pants (and still wasn't).

He learned that Dimitri was right: Sylvain wasn’t to be underestimated. Under that womanizing personality was an intelligent mind. Sylvain was hiding himself just the same as Claude was. What did Sylvain have to hide? He couldn’t _wait_ to crack that mystery wide open.

He _ also _ learned that Dimitri apparently once had a puppy-crush on El, which was cute. Claude was excited to tease Dimitri relentlessly, even though the source had proven himself unreliable. Whether it was true or not, Dimitri was _ hilarious _ to tease.

“Keep being interesting, and I’ll keep biting. Everyone in the monastery knows I’m a sucker for secrets.” Claude smirked at the tiniest downward tilt to Sylvain’s grin. He tossed a wave. “See you next week.”

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


Edelgard felt exhausted.

She wanted to take a bath. Rhea’s touch left her feeling unclean. Even if it was just along her cheek. More than that, she wanted Dimitri and Claude. She needed to share what she had learned and explain Rhea's new plan for her. (And maybe she needed to make sure they were alright).

She bumped into Dedue as she walked through the halls. He informed her that Dimitri had retired to their room during lunch and was (presumably) resting. She in turn informed him that they would be taking breakfast with Rhea, and thus would be gone in the morning. She knew Dimitri would feel guilty if Dedue found their room empty without notice again.

Claude had chess with Sylvain, if she remembered correctly, so Dimitri would be alone. She tried the door handle, frowning as it jigged. Something was wrong with it. It wasn’t locked (the door didn’t even have a lock) but she couldn’t turn it all the way. She put more strength into her grip, forcing it. She managed to open the door, glancing at the handle on the other side. It was bent at an odd angle.

Her eyes flickered up. Claude’s room was a mess— even more than usual. She was immediately on guard, her eyes flickering around for danger. Claude’s room wasn’t just a mess. It had been _ ransacked. _

Half-open books littered the floor, her meticulous piles spilled everywhere. Portions of the carpet had been torn up, as well as long streaks carved into the wooden floor. Claude’s favorite quilt was bunched up against the wall, a long rip going down the center.

The most terrifying abnormality in the room were the chunks of blond fur littering the ground.

Sweeping the room again with her eyes, she was certain she was alone. She knelt by the chunks of fur, noticing some strands of hair as well. Definitely Dimitri’s. Some had dried blood at the end.

Despite the terror threatening to overwhelm her, she stayed calm. She took a deep breath. There was no blood, aside from the hair, but clearly a fight had taken place.

Dimitri had been attacked in their room.

She was caught off guard as fury overrode her fear. She would find whoever did this _ and gouge their eyes out. _ She took another deep breath. She let the fury simmer under her skin. She needed to think clearly.

Dimitri had been attacked. There had been a fight. Their room was trashed. There was very little blood.

Whoever attacked Dimitri must have grabbed his hair and yanked some out. She glanced at the ripped quilt. A single line was torn down the center. Inflicted by a dagger or sword? The attacker’s weapon, no doubt. Glancing down at the grooves carved in the floor, she assumed those were made from Dimitri’s claws. Perhaps he had lunged at his assailant, only for them to dodge, leaving scratch marks etched into the wood. Or perhaps they were caused by the claws in his feet.

Her calm evaporated when she found the last bit of evidence. A knife. Kicked to the side of the room, a small splatter of blood decorating the hilt. The blade was clean, oddly enough. It wasn’t just any knife. She recognized the material._ Agarthium. _

Those Who Slither in the Dark had struck again. And now they had Dimitri.

There was little blood, but that meant nothing. All they had to do was incapacitate Dimitri. From there, a warp would be simple.

They had Dimitri. _ They had Dimitri. _

Splitting up had been a mistake

_ Dammit! _ She had been so sure they wouldn’t strike again so soon. She knew Hubert was working on plugging up the holes in the monastery’s shield that prevented warping, but that was no quick or easy task. 

She clenched her fists. She barely held herself back from punching through Claude’s desk. She mollified herself by promising to punch through Dimitri’s kidnapper’s _ skull. _

She tucked the knife into her belt. She had no way to know where they had taken Dimitri. She left the room, marching towards the gardens. Claude should be playing chess with Sylvain still, she hoped. _ She hoped. _ She wasn’t sure what she would do if _ both _ of them had been taken.

_ Goddess, please let Claude be safe… _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just saying, Pertyon and Gryphon as a ship name for El/Claude & El/Dimi? Missed opportunity, Fire Emblem fandom. Missed opportunity.
> 
> Someone once commented about the all the meta layers about siblings in this fic, and I honestly hadn't realized until they pointed it out? But the layers just keep pouring on? I'm not even trying to do it on purpose?? I just really like found family???? I thought I'd peak at 5 layers, but I'm at *least* at 6 by now. The trio are 'siblings' as Children of Sothis. Legally, they're considered siblings now. The church preaches that 'everyone is a child of the Goddess', so siblings there too. Claude considers them 'bond-siblings'. Rhea thinks Sothis lowkey *actually* adopted the three of them, so siblings there. The school thinks they're all step-siblings at this point, due to gossip mill. I'm probably missing a layer or two as well. ......hm, maybe with some blood reconstruction surgery they can become real, genetic siblings... aHAHA JK i TOTALLY wouldn't do that!
> 
> It's been years since I've played chess. I tried my best.
> 
> As for how canon what Sylvain says in this chapter about his knowledge on El... not sure it's 100% canon? I'm a little hazy on the specifics, though the DLC cleared a lot of it up for me thankfully. To my understanding, El was in Fhirdiad for a year. She met with Dimitri a lot, and neither knew they were step-siblings at the time. I would assume The Dimi Squad also met her at least once or twice, but probably wouldn't make the connection between brown-haired girl El and white-haired Princess Edelgard. Sylvain seems to know the Dimitri gave the dagger to 'El'. However, no one aside from Dimitri knew about Patricia, and Dimitri didn't even know she who she really was (I think Patricia was a fake name?). Anyways, I figure it doesn't matter all that much in the end. I tried to stick to canon as best I could.  
The DLC also confirms that El doesn't remember that Dimitri was the one who gave her the dagger, which makes this fic (or rather, the first part in the series) slightly inaccurate, whoops. 
> 
> (added): Just before I posted this chapter someone commented explaining to me exactly what Sylvain did/didn't know lol, but everything's already written now. rip me.


	12. Panic is an art, not a science

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Panic! Lots of panic and lots of separation anxiety. That's basically it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fanart corner! :D :D :D :D
> 
> [Armored lords](https://mobile.twitter.com/Oculus_SGD/status/1247342045120913410) by Shir0_Tamaya. I love all the little details, it's so good!
> 
> [The Goddess said it's my turn to use the braincell](https://mobile.twitter.com/DeerSketchbook/status/1248354500131373056) by Golden Deer Sketchbook. This one will definitely be a chapter title at some point lol

**Wednesday, 7th of Harpstring Moon**

**(Evening)**

Claude strolled through the gardens at as fast of a pace as he could go without looking rushed. It wasn’t until he waved goodbye to Sylvain that he realized how rarely he had been on his own since his kidnapping. Aside from a handful of minutes here and there, he hadn’t been alone at _ all. _

Students and staff alike still gave him a wide berth, something he was grateful for. But that also meant he was _ entirely alone _ as he passed through the gardens. His ears were back to twitching uncontrollably. He could hear everything. Thank the Gods for that. If he heard nothing but silence, he might have lost his calm entirely. Despite the chatter of students, the singing of birds, the rustling of trees… the gardens felt eerie. _ Wrong. _He could only assume this was due to him being alone.

Deer were herd animals. Was this another deer-thing affecting him? 

Just as he was passing the dining hall he heard a familiar noise. Edelgard and Dimitri made very specific sounds when they walked. Dimitri was usually hard to hear, but sometimes his claws slipped out enough to make noise against the ground. El’s talons were much louder and very unique in the way they sounded. He could hear her in the distance, her talons scraping against the cobblestones.

He frowned. It sounded like she was running. Odd. Perking his ears, he listened for Dimitri. Usually when Dimitri ran, the claws in his feet came out to give him better traction. But Claude couldn’t hear Dimitri at all.

El was running in his direction anyways, so he waited. He considered hiding behind a bush to scare her, but… 

Okay, so maybe he hid behind a bush.

She barreled into the garden, beelining to go further in. Towards where he had been playing chess, maybe? Claude was about to jump out and scare her, but then he saw her face. She was pale, very pale. Despite the lack of expression on her face, something was off about her body language. Her feathers were puffed up in a way he recognized as distressed.

“What’s got you in such a rush?”

Edelgard nearly tripped over herself with how fast she whirled around.

“I was gonna scare you, but I decided to have mercy. Aren’t I nice?”

“Claude!” The sheer amount of relief in her tone rang alarm bells in his head. She flung herself at him, wrapping him in a tight hug with arms and wings.

“Missed you too,” he chuckled, returning the hug. “Guess I wasn’t the only one feeling a bit antsy on my lonesome, hm? Where’s Dimitri?” Her hug tightened. He wheezed, feeling his ribs creak. “Too tight!”

Her hug let up slightly. “Dimitri’s gone,” she hissed into his shirt.

Ice ran down his back. Two words were all it took. “Gone… what do you mean ‘gone’?” He knew she wouldn’t say those words flippantly, but he still tried to deny it. He forced a weak laugh. “Gone fishing? C’mon, that’s not funny.”

Finally El broke her hug, leaning back. Her eyes were furious, a snarl turning her lips. He had never seen her properly angry like this before. _ “They _ took him.” His eyes widened. “He’s gone!”

“Hold on, back up. What happened?”

She gripped his arms tight enough to leave bruises. “I don’t know! I haven’t seen Dimitri since this morning. Your room is trashed. There was a fight. I found torn clumps of Dimitri’s hair and this,” she gestured to an odd looking dagger at her hip. “This is the kind of weapons _ they _ use. Claude, they _ took him!” _ Below the anger, there was a desperation in El’s voice.

“Okay. Okay. Let’s not panic.” _ Shit, _ this was edging into worst-case scenario territory. “Surely there’s a trail we can follow. If they took him they would have had to get out of Garreg Mach…”

“Warping.”

_ “Damn.” _ Claude tugged at one ear. “I’m assuming there’s no way to trace that either, otherwise you’d have Hubert on it already.” Claude’s eyes darted around them. He perked his ears. No one was listening in as far as he could tell, but they were out in the open. “Okay. Let’s go somewhere private. Back to my room. Maybe I’ll find something you missed.” El was panicked, so maybe she missed an important clue. Maybe.

She grit her teeth, giving him a terse nod. “Fine. We can’t waste time though.” Her expression was murderous. “I _ will not _ allow them to take another brother from me.” Her eyes fixed onto Claude’s, dark and desperate. “I _ can’t _ allow it, Claude. _ I won’t.” _

“Breathe with me. You aren’t thinking straight.” He took in a long, deep breath. Her scowl didn’t lessen, but she followed his breathing. “We’ll get Dimitri back.” _ How, _ he didn’t know. But he’d think of something. Anything. Another breath. “We can’t charge head first into this. We need a plan.”

Edelgard hissed, but he knew she didn’t disagree with him. “I understand Dimitri’s protectiveness now. I want to find these _ dastards _ and _ destroy them.” _

“Oh, so it’s just Dimitri you’re protective over? Not me? Feeling hurt here, El,” he teased, though his heart wasn’t in it.

She shook her head. “You were safe last night by the time I was aware. Right now, Dimitri isn’t. They could be doing anything to him.” It was disturbing to watch Edelgard grapple with staying calm in the face of panic and rage. He couldn’t blame her. It seemed her instincts were finally rearing their ugly head. Or perhaps she was just _ that _ afraid for Dimitri. Claude couldn’t blame her. He really, really couldn’t.

He couldn’t allow himself to lose time to panic or worry though, so he set those aside. Removed from any physical danger in front of him, he was easily able to keep the same clear head he was used to. His deer instincts hadn’t taken that from him.

If Dimitri had been taken by Those Who Slither, what would he and El do? What _ could _ they do? Dimitri could be anywhere. Alerting the Knights of Seiros would be a good first step, but Claude had no faith in their tracking abilities. They hadn’t found the three of them during their original kidnapping. Maybe Byleth could help? He had more faith in her, but even still she admitted that finding them the first time had been a fluke. 

Dammit, he _ needed _ a plan. He didn’t have enough information to work with. 

Why take Dimitri? Edelgard was their main target. Did the enemy know how close Edelgard was to Dimitri? Did they plan to use him as bait? Or were they planning to ‘finish’ the incomplete experiment? Claude had to consider the likely possibility that he and Dimitri were being targeted too. El was targeted for her previous connection to Those Who Slither and her political position, but he and Dimitri were also new ‘figures’ of the Church. Edelgard had to be their main target still, but if an assassin happened upon Dimitri alone… clearly they weren’t only after El.

As they ‘casually’ speed-walked back to the dorms, Claude eyed the dagger at Edelgard’s hip. It looked familiar, oddly enough. It was crafted in a unique manner, unlike anything he had ever seen. “Mind if I look that over?” He needed an idea, some sort of spark for a plan. _ Anything. _

She passed it to him. “Careful. Do _ not _ prick your finger on it. It’s a very deadly weapon.” She eyed his hand like a hawk.

“Ooh, poison? If circumstances were different, I’d be excited. I assume this can’t be used to, I don’t know, trace the warp or something? Some sort of… magical residue, or something?” He stared at the dagger. He’d seen it somewhere before. But where…? “Where did you find this in my room?”

“If the dagger could trace a warp, I would have already given it to Hubert. It was against the wall, near the door. Dimitri must have disarmed them.”

Claude stopped walking as he realized where he recognized it from. “Wait! This is the assassin’s dagger from last night. I kicked it aside.” He swallowed, hoping against his better judgment. “What other evidence do you have that Dimitri was attacked by _ them?” _

El eyed the dagger, her face warring to remain impassive. “There was definitely a fight. But… I suppose I saw the dagger and assumed the worst.” She raked a hand through her hair. “There was no sign of a struggle outside the room, so he must have been warped away.”

“Or he was drugged. Or knocked out. Not saying either of those are good, but maybe we have a shot at finding him…”

El gave a determined nod and a shaky exhale. “We must continue to assume the worst, though.”

Claude hummed. “Hilda mentioned that Dimitri wasn’t feeling well and went to the room around noon. Apparently he didn’t make it back to class.” He glanced at the sun. “So at the latest he was attacked five hours ago.”

They resumed heading towards the room. The silence between them was tense. El pressed into his side, one of her wings draped over him. He couldn’t blame her. He was guilty of the same, an arm thrown over her shoulder.

As they neared the stairs, Claude paused. They were passing the greenhouse, and a little beyond that was the dock. He could hear a familiar noise, so faint he nearly missed it.

_ Scratching. _

Claude jerked his head in the direction of the sound. Towards the docks, at the end of the fishing pier. Following his gaze, El gasped.

“Dimitri!”

They both took off at a run, though Claude quickly outpaced El. Not that they had far to run anyways.

Claude almost tossed both himself and Dimitri into the pond with how hard he tackled the blond. It was only Dimitri’s quick tensing that saved them both, the claws in his feet digging into the wood of the pier.

“Claude…!” Dimitri gasped. Claude blinked, surprised at Dimitri’s tone of voice. Dimitri held him carefully, a look of stunned disbelief on his face. What did Dimitri have to be so surprised about? _ Claude _ was the surprised one! _ Dimitri was alright! _

Then Edelgard tackled them both, sending all three of them sprawling into the pond.

Claude kicked out in panic as he hit the cold water. It wasn’t until his head went under that he realized he _ didn’t know how to swim anymore. _He didn’t have to panic long, Dimitri’s solid grip hauling him back to the surface. Claude flung his arms around Dimitri, gasping and kicking as he tried to keep himself on the surface. His eyes met El’s equally panicked eyes, her wings flailing behind her. Like Claude, Dimitri also had a strong grip keeping her on the surface.

A new pair of hands lifted Claude by his armpits. He yelped, barely stopping himself from kicking Dimitri as he was hauled out of the water. He flopped onto the pier, staring up at an expressionless Byleth. Claude knew she was strong, but _ seriously? _ She managed to pull him out of the water on her own! Why was he surrounded by unnaturally strong people…? Was he the _ only _ one with normal strength?!

He shook his head, water splattering off of his hair. Byleth pulled El out next, and then Dimitri.

“Thanks,” Edelgard gasped from where she laid bonelessly. She closed her eyes and punched at the pier. _ “Goddess. _ Dimitri, I’m going to kill you.”

“With love,” Claude tacked on to El’s statement. He groaned, flopping an arm over his face. _ Well, that was embarrassing. _ A shiver ran through him. _ Gods, _ the pond water was cold.

Something warm picked him up. He glared at Dimitri, but there was no heat in the look. Dimitri shuffled him and El together, pulling them both into a hug. Claude couldn’t help but reciprocate— especially since over-eager hugs were what sent them into the pond in the first place.

Claude let out a long breath. Dimitri was _ fine. False alarm. _ A relieved giggle bubbled past his lips. “Wow, that was a rush!” Claude slapped his hands together in a sloppy imitation of a prayer. “Dear heavenly mom, thanks for keeping an eye out for Dimitri! Kudos to you, keep up the good work. With lots of mildly heretical love, your currently damp son, Claude.”

Edelgard must be just as relieved, as she gave a huff of laughter at what would usually earn him a groan.

“I told you they were fine,” Byleth murmured, patting Dimitri’s head.

“You were right,” Dimitri whispered back. “Sorry.”

“Dimitri, what happened? Who attacked you? What’s going on?” El demanded.

He blinked down at her, as if it took him a few moments to process her words. “I… I’m sorry,” he croaked. He frowned. “‘Attacked me’...?”

“The fight in the room. Who attacked you?” Her face turned dark. “I’ll make sure they pay. Was it _ them?” _

Dimitri just blinked at her, looking confused.

“You feeling alright, buddy?” Claude narrowed his eyes. Dimitri’s slit eyes didn’t seem to be focused on anything.

Dimitri gave a small shake. “Apologies. I’m… not thinking clearly.” He tugged them closer, mushing his face into El’s shoulder. “I thought… I was afraid…” He trailed off.

Claude placed his hand on Dimitri’s forehead. Wet, but no fever. Dimitri’s breathing leveled out. He didn’t move his head from where he was pressed against El.

“Did… Did he fall asleep?” Dimitri still held them tight. They were soaked, sprawled out on the pier. Claude poked at Dimitri’s ears. “Can’t you fall asleep after we’re dry?”

No response.

“Well, at least he wasn’t kidnapped,” El groused, letting out a shaky breath. “I’m going to _ kill _ him for making me worry!”

* * *

**(Earlier)**

Dimitri was doing fine. He absently scratched grooves into the floor with his claws. He was okay. Everything was fine. He was tired, but he refused to fall asleep. His head pounded. He was fine.

_ ‘That’s the biggest lie you’ve ever told yourself.’ _

He deserved their insults. They were suffering because he couldn’t avenge them yet. They had every right to be angry.

He tugged Claude’s quilt over his nose. It smelled like Claude and somewhat like El too. Underneath the blanket, the voices were slightly quieter. Not by much, but enough to make a difference.

He took in a deep breath. Claude and El were fine. They weren’t captured, they were free. Everything was fine.

_ ‘Coward. Useless. Pathetic.’ _

_ ‘You hate us. What happened to your love?’ _

_ ‘This is the fault of that half-breed and the witch.’ _

Dimitri jerked at the last whisper. “Don’t say that about them… it’s only my fault. Not theirs.”

Dimitri realized his mistake too late. The voices rose again, but now they weren’t berating him. They were insulting Claude and El.

“Please, don’t say that! It’s my fault, only mine!”

His pleas only egged them on. The ghosts sneered, saying despicable things about both of them.

“Stop! Stop it!”

He ripped a tear down Claude’s quilt.

Everything seemed to freeze. The ghosts went quiet. He stared down in horror at the blanket. Claude had confessed to them it was one of his few possessions from Almyra. Dimitri knew Claude cared a lot about the quilt. Claude didn’t say it outright, but Dimitri knew it was a very important possession.

And Dimitri just ripped it.

It wasn’t a small rip. His claw had caught and torn a long strip down the center. He destroyed Claude’s quilt.

The silence was broken by a laugh. Then more laughter.

_ ‘If he didn’t hate you before, he will now!’ _

Dimitri shook his head. “No, no…! I, I can fix this!” His hands shook as he held the blanket.

_ ‘You? That’s a laugh! You aren’t meant for _ ** _fixing_ ** _ things. Only destroying. That’s all you’re good for. Yet you still deny fulfilling your purpose! All you can do is destroy, but you refuse to destroy those who harmed us!’ _

_ ‘They harmed your precious Claude and El too, yet you won’t fight back. We keep telling you, those wicked fiends have them already. Why else aren’t they here?’ _

Dimitri shook his head, the floor beneath him tilting. “No, no. They’re fine. They’re fine!”

_ ‘Then where are they?’ _

“Claude had a game of chess…?”

_ ‘And dear El? Where is she?’ _

Where _ was _she? He didn’t know. Why wasn’t she with him? Where was she? Class was over, why hadn’t she come to the room? Where was El? Where was she?!

_ ‘She’s been captured. They took her. Claude too. Is that enough motivation to kill them now?’ _

Goddess, _ no! _ They had El. They had El! _ Dear Sothis, please…! _ They had El, they had Claude, they had them both.

The quilt in his hands ripped further. He threw it aside.

No, no. He was being foolish. El had to be fine. She had to be. She had to be.

But where was she?

He started to pace, tugging at his mane. Where were they?

_ ‘Oh, dear Dimitri…’ _ His stepmother rested a cold hand on his cheek. _ ‘When will you learn? All that you love falls to ruin.’ _

He slumped onto the ground. He dug his claws into the carpet. He barely noticed the chunks he was ripping out.

_ ‘Their pain is your fault. Their blood will be on your hands, just as ours is.’ _

_ ‘If only you hadn’t loved them. They would be fine then.’ _

He clutched at his mane, tugging. Pain flared as he tugged out clumps of fur.

_ ‘They’ve been taken already. They scream for you, you know. They’re begging for you to save them right now.’ _

Where was El? Where was Claude? Why was he alone?

Why…?

There was a sound. Not ghosts. Something else. It happened again. _ Knocking. _

Byleth’s knock. 

He stumbled to the door, somewhat breaking the handle as he twisted it open with too much force. Byleth stood on the other side. They stared at each other in silence.

Finally, she cocked her head. “Want to go fishing?”

He stared at her. The ghosts still whispered at his back, but they were quieter. He wasn’t sure he heard her right. “What?”

“Want to go fishing?”

“I… don’t know how.”

“I can teach you. Or you can watch. Either is fine.” He saw her look past his shoulder at the room. “Are you okay?”

He bit at his lip. “Have you seen Claude or El?”

“No.”

_ ‘They’re gone.’ _

“D-do you know if they’re alright?”

Byleth tilted her head again. “I assume so. Are you worried?”

“They aren’t here. I don’t know where they are.” He tugged at his mane again. “They’re gone, where else would they be? They’re gone. They’ve been taken. They…”

Byleth placed a hand on his head, mechanically patting. “Edelgard is with the archbishop. Claude is in the gardens, I think.”

Right, right… Claude had chess. “You’re sure?”

She nodded. “They are fine. We can go see them?”

He shook his head, shame filling him. “I don’t want to interrupt them.” His thoughts were still hazy. His head buzzed and pounded. He was so tired. “Where… where did you say they were again?”

“Edelgard is with the archbishop. Claude is in the garden.”

“Okay. Okay.”

“You don’t look okay.”

“I’m fine!” He wasn’t fine.

“Okay. Do you… need food?”

He shook his head. “No. Can we… Is your offer about fishing still available?”

She nodded.

“I’ll watch. If you don’t mind.”

He shut the door and walked with her. He blinked, and they were at the pier. _ Why was he here again…? _

He watched Byleth pick out a sturdy fishing rod. She sat at the edge of the pier, patting at the space beside her. He let his eyes latch onto her hands as she deftly added the bait. She cast the line into the water, his eyes glued to the floating bobber.

He focused only on Byleth and her fishing rod, the sea of voices fading into the background.

He felt better, a little bit. After a short while Byleth reeled in a small fish. She set it on the dock near him, letting it flop around. He batted at it, something primal in him sparking with joy. He poked at the fish as Byleth cast out into the water again.

“We can cook these later,” she said. “Fish is good.”

“Okay.”

The fish stopped moving after a while. Something in him suggested he eat it right then and there, but he still had enough sense in his frazzled state to not do that.

“Where are Claude and El…?” He couldn’t remember, but Byleth did.

“Edelgard is with the archbishop. Claude is in the gardens.”

“Okay.”

He had no sense of time passing as Byleth caught more fish. He started clawing at the pier after some time, scratching long grooves into it.

“Byleth… I think Claude hates me.”

Byleth patted his head again. “He doesn’t.”

Something about the certainty that she said it gave him hope to cling to. His ghosts still whispered in his ears, but Byleth was so much clearer. And yet… “I ripped his favorite quilt,” Dimitri quietly confessed. “He was upset with me last night, because… I yelled at him? I think. I did something. I deserve his hate. And now… I ripped his favorite quilt. When he finds it…” His ears pressed flat against his head, his shoulders hunching. “If he doesn’t hate me now, he will.”

“He cares about you more than a quilt, Dimitri.”

“But it’s special. It’s important to him. It’s…” he couldn’t remember exactly why it was important, but he knew it was. “He’ll hate me when he finds it.”

“You are special and important too.”

Dimitri wasn’t sure how to reply, so he fell quiet. He let himself watch the fish in the pond instead of thinking about… whatever he had been thinking about. He couldn’t remember.

Suddenly, Claude was there. Then El was there too.

Then they all fell into the water.

The cold pond slapped the present into him. Both Claude and El clutched at him, their heads falling below the water. He stabilized both of them, and Byleth pulled them from the water.

As soon as he was on solid land again, he clutched El and Claude.

_ They were fine. _

  
  


* * *

  
  


“Should we take him to Manuela?” Edelgard asked Claude. “Something is clearly wrong with him.” She gestured at the snoozing Dimitri, who was still draped over both of them. Anger still swam in her stomach, curtling with relief and the last dregs of fear. She wanted to slap Dimitri and hug him at the same time. She settled for hugging him.

Claude had a familiar look on his face. It was a look she was coming to both appreciate and dread in turn. It was his ‘theorizing’ face. “I think he’s just tired.”

Edelgard shot Claude an unamused look. “His speech was slurred. He was very confused. He couldn’t even answer who attacked him! Clearly he’s been poisoned.”

Claude shook his head. “Nah. I know poison, and I know _ this _ particular poison well: he’s sleep deprived. Really, really sleep deprived.”

“Claude, we both sleep with him every night. He’s been getting plenty of sleep.”

Claude poked at Dimitri’s wet whiskers, individually tapping each one to knock off water droplets. Dimitri’s face scrunched up, but he didn’t wake. “And how much of that is spent waking up after a nightmare, both his and ours? We’ve been back, what, five days now? Six? We barely slept last night.” Claude splayed his fingers and began ticking them off. “We stayed up late the night before and woke up early. The night before that we stayed up even later and were woken up even earlier. And before that we barely slept between nightmares, and same the night before, and before THAT we were in the woods.”

“Alright, I get it,” Edelgard snapped. “We haven’t been getting the most sleep, but we’ve been getting _ enough. _ Even if he’s only sleeping four hours a night, this level of confusion isn’t normal.”

“You and I have been getting enough sleep. But hear my little pet theory out: cats need more sleep than people do.”

Edelgard leveled a flat look at him. “You think Dimitri needs more sleep now.”

Claude snapped his fingers. “Bingo.”

She shook her head. “Not enough evidence. I still think poison is more likely. And what about the room?”

“Do you see any wounds on him? He’s missing a few clumps of fur, but take a look at this,” Claude gestured to Dimitri’s fingers. “Look at the little slots his claws come out of. There’s some fur sticking out.”

Edelgard looked down and realized Claude was right. “Are you saying he pulled his own hair out?” That was a bad sign.

“Can’t know for sure. But I would assume so.” He shrugged. “We all deal with stress in different ways. Hair tugging is a common sign of stress, and despite our better situation, we’re all stressed out.” For a moment, Claude’s expression dropped. He looked worn out. The moment ended as he shared a wry grimace with her. “Imagine Dimitri tugging at his hair with his level of strength.”

Edelgard shared his grimace. She might not be as strong as Dimitri, but she herself had experience ripping out chunks of her own hair while combing frustrating knots.

“Look, when _ hasn’t _ Dimitri been tired since we got back? He’s got permanent circles under his eyes! Our lil’ kitty-cat looks like a raccoon.”

Thinking back on the past few days, Dimitri hadn’t _ acted _tired. But thinking back on it, the bags under his eyes had only been growing darker as days passed. Whenever they went to bed, Dimitri was always the first to fall asleep. And he slept much deeper than her and Claude… 

“So you’re saying he just needs a nap.”

“Nope! He needs a nap with _ us, _ clearly. Which sounds pretty great right now, not gonna lie.”

“We’re soaked, Claude.”

“We’ll take a warm bath _ first! _ Then a nap.”

Edelgard’s stomach rumbled.

“And we’ll eat dinner sometime in there too. If Dimitri’s not feeling well by morning, we’ll take him to Manuela.”

Edelgard scrubbed a hand over her face. “Alright. We have a plan in place. But now we have to wake Dimitri.”

Claude chuckled. “Hey now, I made the plan! Pull your weight— _ you _ wake him up.”

“Would you like some help?”

Edelgard startled at the voice. She looked up at Byleth, still standing above them. Edelgard fought back an embarrassed blush. She’d forgotten about Byleth. “Do you know what happened?”

Byleth shrugged. “He was upset. Needed a distraction.” She nodded down to her fishing rod. “Don’t know much more than that. I can wake him up for you.”

That was vague, but at least it was something. “You have our thanks for giving him a distraction, then.” She glanced at Dimitri’s sleeping face. “Help would be appreciated.”

Byleth nodded sagely. She reached down and lightly tugged at Dimitri’s ear.

Dimitri woke with a start. “Nuwhuh?”

“Morning!” Claude greeted cheerfully. “We’re taking a bath, then a nap. Think you can make it that far, ‘Mitri?”

Dimitri blinked slowly at Claude. Edelgard _ really _ hoped Claude was right, because Dimitri looked _ very _out of it. He nuzzled Claude, causing the other boy to sputter.

“Gah! Stop, your mane’s soaked!”

Edelgard cleared her throat. “Dimitri. This is not a negotiation. We are going to the bathhouse _ now. _ So stand up.”

“Yeah! I’m cold, Dimitri! El is too, right El? You’re not gonna force us to stay all wet and cold, are you?” Claude fixed his Doe Eyes™ on Dimitri.

“Oh.” Dimitri shook his head (splattering them with more cold water) and grunted. “Right. Sorry.” Dimitri stood, not fully releasing them even as he did so. “We can… what did you want to do again?”

“Just lean on my shoulder and we’ll guide you, buddy.”

Dimitri, swaying where he stood, draped himself over Claude and nearly sent the two falling back to the ground.

“Lean! I said lean on me, not lay on me!”

Edelgard rolled her eyes and tugged at Dimitri’s other side. She might be shorter than Dimitri and Claude, but she was at least stronger than Claude. “Lean on us both.” She curled a wing around Dimitri’s back to steady him from behind.

Byleth cleared her throat. “I promised Dimitri some of the fish we caught for dinner.” She gestured at her half-filled bucket. “There’s enough to share. I can bring dinner to your room.”

“Only if it’s no trouble.” Ever since her tastebud change, she enjoyed fish a great deal. “That sounds divine, thank you.”

Despite her agreement, Byleth’s expression took on an almost sad note. “Oh. I’m sorry. Claude, I guess you won’t want fish…”

Claude shrugged, smirking. “Eh, it’s fine. Bring it by anyways for Dimitri and El.” It was a sign that she was learning to read him very well that she noticed the tiny hint of jealousy in his voice. She doubted anyone else would have been able to notice it.

“I’ll bring something for you too.” Byleth placed a hand on her chin. “I have been gardening in the greenhouse recently.”

“I don’t mind dining hall food, but bring whatever you want. I’m not picky.”

Byleth patted Claude’s head, earning a bright smile in return. She patted Dimitri’s head, and then Edelgard’s too. There was something nice about Byleth’s pats, Edelgard had to admit. 

She swallowed thickly, suddenly remembering her meeting with Rhea earlier. _ Byleth was Rhea’s granddaughter. Byleth might have the Crest of Flame. _ In her panic, she had forgotten about that. Glancing at Byleth, Edelgard couldn’t see much resemblance. ‘Sitri’ must have been adopted, then. 

Edelgard wasn’t sure if she could handle having a crush on Rhea’s _ biological _ granddaughter… Not that she had a crush on Byleth! She just… appreciated Byleth. And if she _ did _ have a crush on Byleth, that was fine. As it stood, Rhea had nothing to do with Byleth’s life.

With a sinking feeling, she realized she would need to keep an eye out for Byleth. Edelgard might be mostly powerless at the moment, but she could at least warn Byleth if Rhea had any schemes regarding the mercenary. For now though, it seemed Rhea was taking a hands-off approach. 

She wanted to inform Byleth of the reason for Rhea’s fascination, but she couldn’t risk Rhea’s ‘trust’ at the moment. Not until she could be certain Byleth wouldn’t let slip to the archbishop that she knew anything. Especially not in the middle of the pier, where anyone could listen in.

“Thank you for keeping an eye on Dimitri.” Edelgard gave a short bow to Byleth. “When I couldn’t find him, I assumed the worst.” There was a light burn at her cheeks. If she had just kept a cool head instead of jumping to conclusions… 

“Anytime.”

She bid Byleth a wave as her and Claude tugged Dimitri in the direction of the bathhouse. She squeezed Dimitri’s arm. She wanted to be angry at him, but all she could muster was overwhelming relief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ever been really, really, really sleep deprived? Reality stops making sense after a while and memory becomes a crapshoot. Thoughts sorta just slip out of the head like wet bars of soap. After a lot of interrupted sleep from nightmares, not sleeping much the night before, and his body’s new need for more sleep, PLUS his trauma ghosts messing with him, Dimitri is… not doing well.
> 
> Y'all didn't really think I was gonna hurt my fluffy boy by having him be re-captured, right? This is supposed to be a happy fic! *checks past few chapters* Right, nevermind, that's a fair assumption. Congrats to the people last chapter that commented guessing that Edelgard was jumping to conclusions. Extra kudos to AraNata who caught the tidbit about the knife from a few chapters back. Wasn't sure anyone would catch that little hint.
> 
> Did I accidentally recreate the scene about falling into the pond from the drama CD? Maybe, maybe not, I haven't seen a full translation of it yet lol. It wasn't my intention, but... I mean, what better way to greet your pal who you thought was kidnapped and probably being tortured than by flinging them and yourself into a pond? It's the only proper response
> 
> In other news, Byleth returns! She's actually *really* hard for me to write after all this time, because in my other two fics I use a nb!Byleth. Switching back to female pronouns was difficult. Hopefully I didn't mess up her pronouns anywhere, I'm pretty sure I caught all of my slip ups in editing, but who knows lol.
> 
> Next chapter: Dinner, naptime (which is actually just a long sleeptime), some spinal discoveries and some communication


	13. Who needs therapy when you can do yoga for free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catharsis! A nice warm bath, a yummy meal, snuggles, yoga, a little nightmare, resurfacing trust issues... uh, ignore those last two. Everything's fine!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Eaglegard the feather ball](https://mobile.twitter.com/Oculus_SGD/status/1250991674983137280/photo/1) and [Dimitri's panic attack](https://mobile.twitter.com/Oculus_SGD/status/1250645463935705088/photo/1) by Shir0_Tamaya. Thank you again so much for the art! :D

**Wednesday, 7th of Harpstring Moon**

**(Evening)**

“Yeesh, you weren’t kidding,” Claude murmured as he took in the mess of his room.

Edelgard winced. “Yes. Now you see why I assumed the worst.”

Back from the bathhouse, she was feeling warm and refreshed. Bathing had been a bit of a pain, what with the warm water increasing Dimitri’s drowsiness. Her and Claude had to take turns keeping him awake, lest he fall face first into the water. What should have been a quick rinse had taken them a whole hour.

She hated to give Rhea credit for anything, but she appreciated that Rhea had the forethought to quarter off a small section of the bathhouse for them personally. For one, none of them wanted to deal with gawkers. Also… they still bathed together. The bathhouse was typically divided by gender. 

By whatever miracle it was, bathing wasn’t awkward between the three of them. Of course she averted her eyes from certain parts of Dimitri, and Dimitri and Claude from her, but overall… it was fine. She still kept her chest covered around the boys, but the thin layer of black feathers over her breasts gave her a degree of modesty even when naked.

And when she did catch sight of Dimitri’s… unmentionables… it just didn’t feel like a big deal. Of course she’d rather _ not _ see her brother’s dick. But it wasn’t half as embarrassing as she expected it to be. A part of her wondered if her new body even found men attractive. If it wasn’t for her <strike> crush </strike> appreciation of Byleth, she would assume she wasn’t attracted to anyone anymore.

Edelgard led Dimitri to the bed, settling him down. He was a bit more cognizant and awake now, though not entirely back to his normal self. Guilt was written all over his body language as he glanced around at the room.

Claude knelt on the floor, palming over the scratch marks etched into the wood. “Did you have a nightmare?” he gently asked Dimitri.

“Something like that,” Dimitri replied, his voice barely a whisper. Shame dripped from him.

She felt a pang of sympathy. Once, back in Enbarr, she had woken from a particularly bad nightmare. She had thrown her dagger at the shadows in her room, knocking over a glass lamp and shattering it. She could relate.

In hindsight, she felt embarrassed for jumping to conclusions. In her defense, there _had_ been an assassination attempt on her the night prior.

Claude sat beside Dimitri, patting his head. “Hey, it’s alright. No harm done. Nothing that can’t be replaced.”

Dimitri shrunk in on himself further, Claude’s words only multiplying his guilty expression. She narrowed her eyes at that. Dimitri had a martyr complex, so it wasn’t surprising he felt guilty. But there seemed to be something else… 

_ Claude’s quilt, _ she realized. With sinking dread, she remembered seeing Claude’s ripped blanket in her earlier investigations. Her eyes drifted to where it was bunched in the corner, only to find it gone. She frowned. Glancing around the room, she saw no trace of the quilt at all. She was _ certain _ she had seen it earlier… where was it now? She doubted anyone had been in the room since she had, _ especially _ with the broken door handle… They would need to be very strong in order to jig the door open. And why would someone steal a ripped quilt of all things?

Perhaps Dimitri had stuffed it under the bed in the interim when she had been looking for Claude. Or something. She’d deal with that later. All that really mattered at the moment was that Dimitri was upset, and Claude _ would _ be upset when he realized his quilt was gone. No, probably not upset, just… sad. She doubted he would blame Dimitri even when Dimitri blamed himself.

Byleth knocked on the door. Edelgard stood and jigged the door handle. It was still broken, but with proper force it worked. “Ah, good timing, we just got bac—” she stopped and stared at the bounty in the woman’s arms.

Byleth let herself in. She looked around at the room, and Edelgard cringed as she realized there was no place for Byleth to set the plates. “You should get a real table to eat at.” After a quick examination of the room, Byleth placed the plates on the carpet. Two heaping plates of fish. Two more plates stacked high with various vegetable meals.

Edelgard shook herself, tearing her eyes away from the mouthwatering dish of fish. “Ah, perhaps we should. If we keep eating in here…”

Claude peered at the two overflowing plates of veggies. “Wow. Are those both for me? Not sure I can eat that much…”

Byleth shrugged. “Wasn’t sure what you like. Eat what you want, don’t eat what you don’t.”

Claude narrowed his eyes, licking his lips. “I’m going to eat all of it. _ Watch me.” _

_ Great. _ Claude took that as a challenge. Edelgard shook her head, but she couldn’t stop a fond smile. Claude was going to have an awful stomach ache if he ate all of it. 

Byleth left with a wave, claiming she had more fishing to do.

The three of them settled on the floor in a triangle. Thank the Goddess Dimitri wasn’t so out of it to lose his manners. She wouldn’t have been able to stop herself from scolding him if he started eating like a wild animal.

She bit into the fresh Teutates Pike. She didn’t use to mind fish much, but never had a taste for it. _ Now _ though, it was one of the best things she had ever tasted. The Bullhead too, and the Queen Loach… she could barely finish her plate with how much there was, but it was _ delicious. _

After finishing her meal, she and Dimitri migrated to lazing on the bed. She was content to zone out in a blissful food coma. It was an excellent end to a stressful day. Claude still sat on the floor, attacking his second plate. He ate slower now than earlier, but he was making remarkable progress.

Edelgard hummed, patting her stomach. “Before I forget, we have breakfast with Rhea again in the morning.”

“Mmpf,” Claude replied. Swallowing his mouthful, he tried again. “Ugh, I don’t want to hear about that while I’m eating. Can’t that wait?”

Edelgard nodded. “Sure, we can speak of it in the morning.” She held back the vindictive grin that wanted to spill. Claude was going to throw a _ fit _ when she delivered the news about their future faith lessons.

Eventually, with an impressive effort, Claude was victorious over his plates of innocent vegetables. He hobbled himself onto the bed and groaned. Dimitri wrapped an arm around Claude like a magnet as soon as he was within range.

“I told you you would regret eating that much.”

“Shut.” Claude moaned into his pillow. “Was for a good cause…”

She snorted. “Gorging yourself is a ‘good cause’?”

“Solved another mystery.” He took her hand and guided it to his stomach. Instead of the food bulge that she expected, his stomach was flat. “It feels so weird,” he whined into the pillow.

She frowned. “Huh?” Then the realization sunk in. She moved her hand down to his deer half, his belly puffed out with the food he had eaten. “Oh.”

“Looks like I don’t have two stomachs. Wonder if it’s still my human stomach moved over to my deer half, or is it a new organ entirely? I mean, even though meat tastes awful, I can still digest it… Do I have different organs in my human torso now? Or is it just empty? Am I hollow in that area? If I got stabbed there, would…” Claude trailed off, mumbling incoherently into his pillow.

Despite being the most changed physically, Claude tackled it with his endless curiosity. She had to wonder if Byleth had been a few hours slower, how much different she would be. Claude received one more procedure than her and Dimitri, after all. She wondered how different she would look like if— 

No, she’d rather not think about that.

She tousled Claude’s curls. “Nap time now?”

Dimitri snored in reply. Claude was still mumbling into his pillow, but she knew he was well on his way to a food coma.

“Nap time it is,” she replied to herself, cozying closer.

* * *

_ An iron bird cage is in front of her. She dithers, dreading returning to the cage. _

_ “Come now dear, in you go,” Rhea’s sickly sweet voice booms around her. _

_ She clutches her ears and hunches into a ball. She doesn’t want to go back into the cage. _

_ Rhea tisks. “That won’t do. It’s dangerous outside, my little birdie. It’s your choice. Step into the cage.” Rhea’s voice lowers into a guttural growl. “You won’t like the other option.” _

_ Shaking, El stands. Chains are around her arms and legs. They rattle as she shakes. She steps into the cold cage. The iron door crashes behind her. _

_ She is trapped. _

_ “No…” she whispers, “no, not again!” She turns to the iron bars caging her. She grips the metal and pulls. “I won’t be trapped again!” She pulls and the metal stays strong. “Let me out!” _

_ “It is okay, my little birdie…” Rhea’s voice croons. A giant visage of Rhea’s face peers into El’s cage. “Isn’t that better? You are safe now. You are _ ** _mine_ ** _ now.” _

_ She bares her teeth at Rhea. “Never! I’ll never be yours!” _

_ Rhea’s smile falls. She glares. “That is no way to behave towards your savour.” Rhea’s giant hand reaches out and shakes the cage. El falls to the hard metal floor of her prison, unable to get back up. “I will teach you a lesson if I must.” _

_ Rhea picks up the cage and hooks it to her hip. El grasps at the bars, unable to do anything. She opens her mouth to shout at Rhea again, but all that comes from her throat is an angry tweet. _

_ Rhea looks down at her, her eyes curving into evil smiles. “Oh my, you sing for me? How pretty. Sing for me more, my little birdie.” _

_ El sneers. To her horror, her mouth opens against her will. Sweet birdsong is pulled from her lungs. _

_ Clapping comes from around her. Birdsong still spills from her lips as she whirls at the clapping. An audience of dark grinning faces greet her. She sees her uncle among the crowd, standing at the forefront. He smirks at her, his claps slow and mocking. Beyond them she sees her classmates, jeering and laughing at her forced song. _

_ She sees her siblings in the sky, silent and angry. They cannot yell at her. They are dead. _

_ “That’s a good girl. Keep going.” _

_ Edelgard can’t stop, not even as the tears fall from her face. She wants to stop. She wants to hide. She wants her freedom. _

_ “Now dance.” _

_ Against her will, her body dances to Rhea’s whims. Rhea’s hand moves ornate puppet strings. The bangles along her archbishop robe clink and clatter the same as her shackles. _

_ She looks over and sees a crowd looking at something other than her. She follows their gaze and sobs. Separated in distant cages are Claude and Dimitri, on display in their full animalist glory. The crowd gawks and cheers as they too are forced to perform for Rhea’s whims. _

_ Her throat hurts and her feet bleed. _

_ Rhea lifts her small cage until she is at eye level. “And to think, you walked into my cage willingly. My little birdie, you have only yourself to blame.” _

_ Rhea’s hand enters the cage. Rhea scoops her into a scaled palm. Rhea’s claws wrap around her tightly. If Rhea squeezes, El knows she will die. _

** _“Mine. Mine, forever.”_ **

  
  


* * *

**Thursday, 8th of Harpstring Moon**

  
  


The first rays of dawn were peeking through Claude’s window when he woke. Dimitri and El would probably sleep for a few more hours, by his estimate. Having gone to sleep early for once, Claude was wide awake now. His pet theory that he needed less sleep and that Dimitri needed more sleep seemed to be true. Which meant he had a few more hours of being trapped in Dimitri’s grip, bored.

Not that he really minded. He was unbelievably comfortable. His belly was still pleasantly full (though it still felt weird). He was warm. He felt safe and at ease. The only thing he found annoying was the lack of blankets over them. Edelgard’s feathers were nice, but Claude liked the weight and feel of real blankets too. All the blankets were still strewn across the room.

He used his extra time to catch up on some meditation. Usually he stretched and moved about while meditating, but he would have to deal with a still meditation today. He needed to figure out new stretches for his new body as well.

An hour ticked by and Claude keenly felt his boredom. The disaster that was his room needed to be picked up and sorted through. It niggled at him. His room was a disaster on a good day, but there was always a method to his messes. 

Very slowly and very carefully, he slipped out of Dimitri’s hold. He figured if Dimitri woke up and needed to know Claude was alright, he was still within view.

He rested a hand on his head as he looked at the carnage. He’d been too busy the night before to really take inventory. It reminded him of the only time he ‘forgot’ to feed his wyvern back home (he’d been sick from a poisoning attempt). She had been very upset with him, breaking into his room and trashing the place. 

He took a look at his door first. The handle was bent at an odd angle. He had tried opening it the night before only for it to remain jammed. El and Dimitri could still open the door because they were _ freakishly strong, it was so unfair, _ but short of inhuman strength hacks, the door wouldn’t open anymore. He couldn't help but snort in amusement. His door finally had a 'lock'. The key was El or Dimitri. Hilda, Dedue, Byleth, and probably Raphael would be able to open the door if they put their back into it, but to anyone else the handle was well and truly stuck. 

He started simple, picking up spilled books. He winced at a few damaged spines, but it was nothing that couldn’t be fixed. Thankfully none of the books were roughed up too badly. He stacked them in random piles, not worried about organization yet. The task was mindless and peaceful, the sounds of Dimitri and El’s breathing doing wonders to boost his calm mood. He folded the crumpled blankets, grimacing at all of the fur and feathers on them. They really needed to do laundry. Maybe Dedue or Hubert would be willing? Hilda certainly wouldn’t.

A few things had fallen off his desk that he set back upright. Again, nothing was broken. Despite the mess of his room, Dimitri hadn’t done much damage. Most of Claude’s important or delicate things were in desk drawers or hidden stashes. He checked inside his desk just in case, pleased to see his bottles of medicine and poisons were untouched. 

Edelgard might call him a hoarder, but in truth most of his things weren’t permanent possessions. He hadn’t been able to bring much with him from home, which had been fine since he didn’t have much to bring in the first place. His room was filled with books, tools, and notes. His safe haven, sure, but he wasn’t the sort to carry around sentimental knicknacks. Not that he had many to carry around in the first place.

Caring about an item just meant someone would come and break it. He had learned that the hard way. For any possession he did care about, he knew it needed to be hidden. Which was why the collapsible telescope from his father was thoroughly hidden.

Heh, he’d already Dimitri-proofed his room without meaning to.

Picking up stray items around his room, he came to the realization that there were a lot of El and Dimitri’s things in his room. A hair brush and ties, journals and books and quills, clothes… He even found the bracelet Hilda made that Dimitri had set aside, too worried he would break the delicate thing to wear it. It made sense that their things were in his room, considering they had more or less moved in full time, but it was odd. He’d never shared his private space with another before. He didn’t mind like he thought he would.

Come to think of it… El and Dimitri’s rooms were empty space waiting to be used. Last night they had mused about getting a table for Claude’s room, but that would make the cramped space even more cramped. Maybe they could redecorate El or Dimitri’s room as a private dining/work space? They wouldn’t be forced to do school work on the floor that way either…

In one of his drawers he found a small pile of… random junk? He didn’t recognize any of it. Coins, shiny rocks, random mismatched jewelry, a colorful tassel, some silverware, a brass button… Parsing through the pile, the only thing he recognized was a spare metal cap for his braid. He had assumed he had misplaced it. The whole pile was mismatched, nothing seemed particularly valuable either. A mystery for another time.

His room put into a (relative) state of order, he frowned. Glancing at the folded pile of blankets, he realized his quilt was missing. He peeked under the bed, under his desk, checked under the carpet, even peered out the window to see if it had fallen outside. He couldn’t find it.

Weird. He’d have to ask Dimitri when he got up.

Claude gave a big stretch, reaching his hands towards the ceiling and cracking his spine. He hummed at the feeling, closing his eyes. Following his old routine, he leaned forward and down, his palms laid flat against the floor while his knees stayed straight. He held the position bent in half, hanging his head upside down. His antlers tapped at the carpet. He hadn’t stretched for _ days, _ he realized. He drew his hands towards his body, his fingers touching his toes— 

His toes— 

His _ hooves._ Right, he didn’t have toes any more… 

_ Hold on a second… _

He opened his eyes. He blinked at the white creamy fluff of his undercarriage. Was… he supposed to be able to bend this far? He was bent over farther than a horse would bend down to graze. He at _ least _ should have had to bend his knees to get to the position he was in, right? But his legs were still straight. He was on all fours— wait, no, he was on… all six? Six limbs on the ground. Four legs and two hands.

He wiggled the part of his spine where his human half bled into his deer half. _Yeah, okay,_ that was definitely more flexible than he expected it to be. He curled himself even tighter, bringing his hands up between his forelegs and around his own deer chest from the bottom up. The muscles in his back protested as he pushed himself as far as his new skeletal system allowed. Grunting into the stretch, he could nearly wrap his arms around his deer stomach and all the way up to his spine. He was just a few inches short from being able to lace his fingers together over his deer back. The fact that he could get close at all was interesting and definitely unexpected. His head and shoulders were jammed between his own forelegs, and the only reason he couldn't push himself further was due to his human ribs bumping up against his deer ribs. He managed to press his cheek against the fluff of his stomach, though only just barely. He wasn't sure he could manage it on an empty stomach.

He uncurled and stood up straight. He rucked up his loose sleep shirt, twisting to peer down at his back. He wasn’t sure if he would ever get used to the oddness of it all. He reached a hand around to feel at the area where his skin bled into fur. He prodded at the white spots littering his skin. They felt exactly the same as the rest of his skin. He wondered if they would fade as he got older. He ran his hand along his human back, tracing his spine as it traveled into his deer half. His spine curved down into the meat of his deer back, flanked on both sides by his… hips? Thighs? No, shoulders, it was the deer equivalent of his shoulders. Which… he had two sets of now, he supposed.

He wiggled a bit, impressed with the degree of mobility. He was able to twist further than he used to, he realized. He could twist his entire torso nearly all the way backwards. He’d always been flexible. It was nice that _ something _ hadn’t changed, even if he was flexible in a new direction. Tracing his spine back up his human half, he noticed that even the upper portion of his spine was more flexible. He curled his spine forward and towards his torso instead of the ground this time. 

"Well, that's new," he mumbled from where his forehead pressed against his human abdomen. It seemed it wasn't just his new deer half that was more bendy. His ribs were the only uncomfortable part of the position, but even then it wasn't so bad. If it weren't for his antlers, he had no doubt he would be able to curl up even tighter.

He wondered, with a brief bit of bitterness, if there was a single part of him that hadn't been altered. His spine was apparently rubber, his stomach was in a different spot, his taste buds were different... Even his arms, the least altered part of his body, were littered with white freckles.

_Deer aren't flexible like this._ What did it mean that he was?

If his spine was this flexible, what about the rest of him? His muscles also felt looser than before, what with the stretches he had managed to pull off so far. He wondered if his legs managed to retain any of his old flexibility. Could he still do the splits? Was that even possible with his current bone structure? Probably not, but he wondered how far he could push his joints without injuring himself. How limited was he to what a deer could do?

Sometimes it felt like the questions about his new body would never end.

He leaned forward and put his palms back down on the floor. He wondered if he could still do a cartwheel. Maybe if he kicked with enough force with his back legs, he could launch himself— 

El whimpered.

He shot up, wincing at the dizziness from going from upside down to right side up so fast. He leaned over the bed, shaking her awake.

“Claude…?” Edelgard’s sleepy eyes shimmered with unshed tears.

“Right here,” he softly replied.

She took in a few shaky breaths, curling her fists into Dimitri’s nightshirt. Claude half knelt on the bed, running a hand through her hair as she collected herself. “Thanks,” she eventually croaked. She squinted at him in the morning light. “Why’re you out of bed?”

“Stretching. Wanna see something neat?” He doubted his definition of ‘neat’ matched up with hers, but oh well. She looked like she could use a little distraction.

Her body still shook, but she nodded.

He decided to test the other side of his torso’s flexibility, leaning back as far as he could go. Craning his spine backwards and sliding his forelegs forward, his eyes nearly popped out of his skull as he leaned back and _ kept going. _ His human back dipped far enough to fold flat against his deer back. It was a hell of a stretch, but… wow. “Look, I’m a noodle!” If he ever had to play a game of limbo, he’d do great with how _ limber _ he was.

“Does that hurt?”

“Surprisingly, nope.” Claude returned to his normal posture.

She huffed a watery laugh, shaking her head. “Are you done stretching yet? Come back over here.”

Claude snorted. “Fine, fine, Your Grumpiness.”

As he settled back into bed, El tucked a wing around him. Dimitri, despite being asleep, wrapped an arm around him as well. “You’re always begging to sleep in, but when you finally have the chance you get up to _ stretch _ of all things. And do chores, by the look of the room.” He realized there was a small tremor to her voice. He hugged her tighter.

“I slept for, like, nine hours straight. Believe it or not, I’m actually a morning person when I go to bed early.”

Edelgard smacked a hand over his mouth. “Shut up and go back to sleep. You’re insufferable.”

He snickered, but stopped talking. Despite El’s order, he wasn’t going to be able to get back to sleep. He was very cozy, though… 

Hmm, he had an idea…

An hour later Dimitri finally woke up. Claude knew he woke up, because he woke up with a shout.

“Claude!”

“Right here, buddy,” Claude murmured back. He had actually managed to drift off a bit… 

“Whu, I— are you in pain?”

Claude raised an eyebrow at Dimitri. “Nah. Very cozy, actually.”

Edelgard groaned, rubbing a hand along her eyes. “Claude, is this going to be a new thing with you?”

“Maybe. Not sure yet,” Claude mumbled into his own fur. “Being a pretzel isn’t so bad.”

He had taken to curling up onto himself. His arms tucked over his deer back (his deer shoulders?) and his face was pressed into the same spot. His deer body was curled up in as much of a circle as he could bend, his hind legs almost able to tuck under his chest.

“More like a cinnamon roll than a pretzel,” El commented.

“You’re curled up like a cat,” Dimitri stated, dumbstruck. “How…?”

“Biology,” Claude replied with a wink. “Guess who learned they have a funky spine this morning?”

“Come to think of it, you lay down like a cat a lot,” Edelgard noted. “Like when you tuck your legs under you in a… ah, what did you call it again? Muffin position?”

“Loaf position.”

“Sure. That.”

“Well _ Dimitri _ isn’t curling up like a cat, so one of us has to compensate.” 

Reluctantly, they all got up and began to prepare for the day. In what was becoming routine, they started the day the same way they usually ended it— grooming. Unfortunately, they hadn’t groomed each other the night before, which meant Claude had to spend much longer on Edelgard’s wings. Meanwhile, El combed Dimitri’s mane and hair. Dimitri carefully used Claude’s hoof pick to clean the debris that had built up. Considering he was supposed to do that daily, but forgot in favor of doing El’s wings… yeah, his hooves felt much better afterwards. After Dimitri took care of his hooves (and listened to El scold Claude, silently, the _ traitor), _ Dimitri switched to brushing Claude’s fur. His fur didn’t need to be brushed as regularly as the other two, but it felt _ very _ nice and it gave Dimitri something to do. After settling El’s feathers neatly into place, he began combing her hair. 

“Feeling better this morning, Dimitri?” El asked as she finished combing out the last knots in his hair.

Dimitri flinched. “Yes. I am. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Claude assured him. “You were real tired yesterday, huh.”

“I have no excuse for my behaviour.”

Claude shot Dimitri a wink. _ “You _ might not have an excuse, but _ I _ sure do! Here’s what I’m thinking…” Claude shared his theory about Dimitri needing more sleep, the same he had shared with El the day before.

Dimitri slumped his shoulders. “I hate to agree, but I find that likely. I used to be able to stay up for days… I’m becoming quite the burden…”

El smacked Dimitri, earning her a yelp. “None of that. If you’re a burden, we all are. Are we a burden to you, Dimitri?”

Dimitri’s eyes flew wide. “No! Of course not!”

“Which means _ you _ aren’t a burden to _ us, _ dummy,” El tugged at his ear.

“Ah, s-stop that! Ow!”

“Tell me you aren’t a burden and I’ll let you go.”

“But— Ow!”

“No buts,” Claude teased, poking Dimitri’s whiskers. “You heard her terms.” He leaned in close, like he was whispering a secret. “I’d go along with it. I hear she’s ruthless to those that insult her brothers.” He winked. He whispered even quieter so that El wouldn’t hear him. “She’s also a total nag.”

El huffed a laugh. “Claude’s right, Dimitri. I won’t stand for anyone calling my brother a burden, even from you.” She tugged again. “So?”

“I… I’m…”

Claude patted his cheek. “It’s not so hard. _ ‘I’m not a burden, dearest sister. I’m a very fluffy kitty-cat, please give me pets and cuddles.’ _ That’s all you have to say!”

“Claude! I’m not saying that! Ow! El, stop that!”

El smirked. “I’m waiting, _ dearest brother.” _

“I… I’m not a burden,” he whispered in defeat.

El tugged at his ear again. “Couldn’t hear you,” she lied.

Dimitri huffed, settling into a glare. “I’m not a burden. _ There. _ Happy?”

El gave one last flick at his ear. “You forgot to say ‘dearest sister’.”

“I’m not a burden, _ dearest sister.” _ He rolled his eyes and gave an exasperated grumble. Claude was pleased to note a lack of hesitation in his words this time.

Claude rewarded him with a few ear scratches before he went back to combing El’s hair.

He was nearly finished with her hair, tying Hilda’s gifted hair tie in the back, when he remembered a question from earlier. “Hey, have either of you seen my quilt? Couldn’t find it earlier. Oh and El, does Hubert do laundry service? Our blankets are filthy with fur and feathers.”

The light mood drained out of the room. There was a long pause. Long enough for Claude to stop combing her hair and rethink his words. Did Hubert have laundry-related trauma or something?

“Claude…” Edelgard began, her tone hesitant like she was about to break bad news.

“I’m sorry,” Dimitri whispered, his head bowed.

“Whoa, whoa, what’s wrong? Hey, it’s okay that you’re shedding Dimitri. I am too, it’s not just your fault.”

Dimitri looked at the floor, his face filled with shame. “Claude, I’m so sorry.” He bit his lip, looking two steps away from crying. _ Dammit, _ they had _ just _ gotten him to relax!

Claude met eyes with El, not understanding. “Claude, about your quilt…”

His stomach sank. _ His quilt…? _ He didn’t let it show on his face. His ears still twitched against his will. “Something happened to it, huh,” he assumed, keeping his tone light.

“I destroyed it,” Dimitri whispered. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

_ Destroyed. _ A childish part of his mind wanted to wail at that. “It’s okay,” he lied, patting Dimitri’s head. “It’s about time I got rid of that old thing.”

The quilt was old he had to admit. As old as he was. He was nearly 18, nearly an adult. He should have parted from his baby blanket years ago. But the sturdy old thing had always brought him comfort when his parents couldn’t or wouldn’t. He never could bring himself to retire it. Claude didn’t have many things that brought him comfort in life, but his blanket always gave him a sense of ease.

His blanket _had_ given him a sense of ease. But now it was gone. He should have expected something like this. He hadn’t hidden it, after all.

“Dimitri, it’s okay,” he repeated, even though his heart didn’t believe it. “It was an accident, right? It’s fine.”

“I would never harm anything of yours on purpose!” Dimitri shook his head vigorously. “It’s not okay. It was from your home…!”

Claude tutted, smiling. “Hey, it’s not the only thing I have from home.” He still had his incense burner, his telescope, and his head-wrap. It wasn’t much… yet it was something. But it wasn’t the fact that the blanket was from Almyra that made it special. “It was just a quilt. Those can be replaced.” _ This one _ couldn’t be, though. Even if someone made him a replica of the same quilt, it would never hold the stains and tears and history of his childhood. Hah, _ how childish of him. _That blanket had been something of his only friend throughout his entire life.

But Dimitri didn’t need to know that.

He didn’t blame Dimitri. He _ didn’t. _ He knew Dimitri broke many things by accident and had trouble controlling his strength. Claude wasn’t angry at him. He was angry at himself. He _ knew better. _ He _ knew _ that leaving something important like that in the open was a death sentence to whatever he cared about. He had gotten too relaxed, too trusting. He had forgotten that things weren’t only destroyed out of malice.

His chest ached.

“I thought you would hate me,” Dimitri confessed.

Claude scoffed. “As if. You’re far more important than a dirty old quilt.” Claude forced his ears to stay upright even though they wanted to droop. He kept his smile light.

Dimitri’s shoulders still slumped with guilt, but he seemed to believe Claude. “I’ll replace it. I swear it to you.”

Claude reached around to wrap his arms in a hug around Dimitri’s neck. “You make a much cozier blanket anyways. Right, El?” With his face smooshed up against Dimitri’s mane, he allowed his smile to fall for just a moment. He felt the pathetic urge to cry. He squashed the feeling.

It was just a blanket. _ His _blanket, but only a blanket nonetheless.

She ran a hand through his hair, scratching at the base of his ear. “Of course,” she softly replied. He hid a wince. She didn't sound fooled.

It was fine. He had been too weak to get rid of the quilt on his own, but this was a long time coming. As he got older, he had always feared his parents taking it away. He kept the quilt hidden and safe for years, clutching her at night as his sole confidant and friend. Maybe his parents had known he needed _ something _ to clutch to his chest on those hard and lonely nights, because they never even tried to take her away.

He didn’t need her anymore. He didn’t need his blanket anymore. He _ didn’t. _ He had El and Dimitri. He wasn’t a child. But the loss still hurt.

Claude put his smile back in place, shoving the thoughts from his mind._ It was just a quilt. _ “So, El, another breakfast with Rhea this morning, right?” With a well-honed practice, he put the ache of grief in a mental box to deal with later.

She gave him a searching look before nodding. “Indeed. I have other news as well.”

She shared with them Rhea’s plan to make her the next archbishop. Claude whistled at that. He let his mind get caught up in the new information. He knew that _ El knew _ he needed a distraction. He was grateful.

Like El, he knew the other boot would drop at some point. It was just too easy. The other tidbit of knowledge…

“Rhea is Byleth’s grandmother?! I did _ not _ see that one coming.” Then he remembered how poorly Jeralt had reacted to his joke speculation that he was a spurned lover of Rhea’s. _ Yeowch. That made sense now. _“Hm, do you think Byleth has the Crest of Flames, then?”

“I do not know. Considering Jeralt’s avoidance of the church, I would assume there is at least a possibility.”

“A lot to consider,” Dimitri murmured. “Was that all?”

Her face took on a strange mix of a grimace and a wry smirk. “Not quite. My training in faith magic is rather lacking. As I am to become the next archbishop, Rhea intends to tutor me directly.”

Claude barked a laugh. “Oh, that’s rich! Better you than me.”

“Actually…” El smirked. “_ All _ of us will be attending these lessons.”

Claude's laughter sputtered. “What?!”

“As we are a ‘Holy Trio’, it is rather pathetic that between the three of us, we cannot cast a simple heal spell, yes?”

He glared at her. “You roped me into this on purpose.”

Her grin had teeth. “Do you really think I was about to tutor one on one with _ Rhea _ of all people? Of course not! Your suffering is just a bonus.”

“I think it might be interesting.”

“At least _ one _ of us is happy.” Claude groaned and buried his face into Dimitri’s mane. “El, you’re the worst.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Claude’s attachment to his baby blanket is, a bit embarrassingly, somewhat based off of me. Yes, I’m an adult who still has and occasionally sleeps with my old blanket. I don’t need it to fall asleep, and more often than not I just keep my blanket folded on my dresser, but it's a comfort unlike anything else. I can just smush my face into the blanket and it’s instant comfort. It really does feel like an old friend to me, and even though I don’t need it I would be devastated if something happened to it. It’s old and rather worn, though still in roughly good condition. I am extremely protective of it though. Like, ‘might punch someone I don’t trust touching it’ level of protective. Maybe not that far, but still.
> 
> It’s actually a really interesting psychological phenomenon. It’s called a transitional object, if I’m remembering right. Usually it’s a stuffed animal or blanket. It’s an object that a baby/child uses to bridge the gap of anxiety when learning how to deal with separation from their primary caretaker. It’s a step in becoming independent from parents, and in many cases that attachment never fades. I think a study claimed roughly 30% of adults (in some western demographic, I don’t remember which) still sleep with a blankie/stuffed toy.
> 
> Anyways, I figure as someone who probably didn't get much comfort from his parents growing up, a childhood blanket would be a huge source of comfort for Claude. Plus it would be a ‘friend’ that would never betray him.
> 
> Wow! Just made myself really sad! Anyways, deer autonomy is annoyingly frustrating to write. Hoping Claude’s flexibility section was understandable. I spent a while looking up centaur drawing references trying to figure out how to write that scene lol. His spine is now Abnormally Flexible for Reasons. Edelgard and Dimitri have their strength, but Claude is very ;) dexterous. He has now unlocked the contortionist class.
> 
> Random fact of the day: Limbo wasn’t really a thing until the 1800s and wasn’t really popular until the 1950s. But I wanted Claude to make the limber pun, and pff, no one's gonna know obscure facts about limbo, I’m in the clear..._ Wait, shit— _
> 
> Next chapter: Breakfast, Rhea, and heartfelt sharing of (semi-embarrassing) childhood memories.


	14. 6ft social distancing? These kids can't even manage 6 inches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In order: Rhea is an enabler, Rhea is very happy, Rhea is very terrifying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some disturbing themes in this chapter (as many things involving Rhea have).
> 
> [Claude's Doe Eyes™](https://mobile.twitter.com/Oculus_SGD/status/1255327961764552704)
> 
> Unfortunately due to me rambling on for too long, this chapter had to be cut in half (or rather 2/3rds). The happy sharing of childhood stories has been pushed back a chapter, as this one is already longer than usual. As a byproduct of that, the ending is uhhhhh not nearly the happy tone I was shooting for lol. The next 20k I have written is like 85% sibling fluff that I am dying to get to.

**Thursday, 8th of Harpstring Moon**

  
  
  
  


“Good morning,” Rhea smiled sweetly at them as they settled onto the cushions laid out across the balcony. “I hope today’s spread is acceptable.”

Dimitri looked at the low table. The fare was simpler than last time, but not by much. He recognized a few of the odd dishes from before, as well as a few new ones. Fruits, meats, eggs, and breads, of various sorts. He was pleased to see the braided cheese bread from before was on the table.

Rhea poured all three of them tea. Usually an attendant would be the one to pour tea, as it was below Rhea’s station to do so herself. But there were no servants about, just like the time before. Just the four of them.

It was nice.

His chest was still heavy with guilt. Claude hadn’t been distraught over the destruction of his quilt like Dimitri had assumed he would be. But he still felt guilty for his actions. He couldn’t even remember the end result of the quilt. It wasn’t just guilt in his stomach either. Shame, embarrassment, and frustration mixed as well.

Laid low by  _ sleep deprivation _ of all things. He used to be an adept hand at dealing with the symptoms of lack of sleep, but the day prior had snuck up on him. Combined with his worry for Claude and El, as well as his ghosts… 

Despite the excuse, he was ashamed of his weakness.

The smell of tea hit his nose, pulling him back into the moment. “Ah, this smells delicious. Thank you.”

“A nice smell,” Claude agreed, taking a careful sip of the steaming tea. “Mmm… this one’s pretty great.”

“I am glad to hear it,” Rhea replied. “Chamomile is one of my favorites.” She took a sip. “How has the monastery been treating you all? I trust all has been well? Seteth informed me that the three of you have taken to sharing quarters.” 

Dimitri nearly choked on his tea. “Archbishop! It’s not like that!”

Rhea’s laugh was quiet and musical. “No need to worry, I understand. These eyes of mine are sharp enough to see that your bond is pure. And please, dear Dimitri, when we are having breakfast like this I am not the archbishop. Just Rhea.”

“Yes, my apologies. You said that last time, L— ah, Rhea.” It was hard for him, but at the same time, he achingly understood the desire to be referred to by name. “We appreciate being allowed to rest together.” He fiddled with his hands, unsure why he felt the need to explain himself. “It, ah… it can be hard. To be seperated. I just— to know they are safe—”

“You need not explain yourself if it brings discomfort,” Rhea interrupted him. “You three have been through much.”

“We appreciate your understanding,” El replied with a dip of her head. 

Dimitri clenched his fists by his side. They would have class later in the morning. After lunch they had another session with Byleth, but until then… His stomach churned at the idea of separation. His ‘episode’ had been spurred on by a lack of sleep, yes, but the reasons for his panic had already existed. 

“Something is bothering you.”

Dimitri snapped his head up and met Rhea’s eyes. “It is nothing important.” He took a deep breath and tried to bury his discomfort. “I apologize.”

“Please, do not hesitate to bring any matter to my attention, be it big or small.”

His shoulders slumped. “Just… something I must work through on my own.” His eyes drifted to Claude and El. They both pressed into his sides, both giving him a worried glance. He looked down at his hands. The bones in his hands were sore, as they often were these days. “I find myself warring with new instincts within me, at times.” El’s wing tightened against his back.

“Are there any accommodations I can provide to help? You need not deal with this on your own.”

He shook his head. “No, no. As I said… I merely need to grow accustomed to my new life.”

Rhea hummed. “Are you willing to shed some light on these issues? I cannot, of course, offer wisdom born from experience about your situation. However, a different perspective may help.”

Dimitri fiddled with his hands. He had to be careful to keep his claws sheathed. “I find myself… overly protective. To the detriment of myself and those around me,” he shamefully admitted. Claude pressed into his side, slinging an arm across his shoulder. His tail curled around Claude’s flank. “I have not harmed anyone, but I find myself…” He hung his head, his eyes darting to the two by his side. “I cannot focus when I am unable to assure their safety. I cannot lose…” His cheeks burned and he found himself unable to finish. Claude and El already knew of his issues, but it still burned to say it out loud. Beyond that, saying it to Lady Rhea… 

“Oh, dear Dimitri…” Rhea began, her tone soft and understanding. “And the two of you?”

El reluctantly nodded. “I find myself in a similar position, though perhaps not as intense as Dimitri’s.”

“Same here. Logically I know we’re all safe in the monastery,” Claude lied, “but it can be hard to convince myself of that without visual proof.” He jerked his head towards them.

“I see. Forgive me, it was callous of me not to realize.” Rhea’s face fell. “Despite the blessing that has been gifted upon you three, your captivity must have been quite traumatic.”

Dimitri hissed to himself, biting his cheek to keep himself in check. “There were times… I feared we would lose…” He darted his eyes over to Claude. To remind himself that Claude was fine. Memories of Claude’s tortured screams echoed through his head. Despite already being pressed into his side, Dimitri pulled Claude a little closer. On his other side, he wrapped an arm around El’s waist. Her screams, too, echoed through his thoughts. As if she knew, she squeezed his hand.

“We had a few close calls,” Claude finished for him. “We’re moving forward as best we can.”

Rhea gave a solemn nod. “Indeed. Something easier said than done.” Her gaze drifted past the three of them off into the distance. After a moment, her focus returned. “I must give my apologies. I have been insensitive towards the three of you and your recovery.”

“N-not at all!” Dimitri denied. “You have been most accommodating!”

“It feels unbearable to be apart, does it not?”

Dimitri felt his eyebrows hit his forehead. “How did you—”

“I give thanks to the Goddess that She saved all three of you.” Rhea gazed down into her tea. “Even Saint Seiros had four other saints by her side. The Goddess is wise, and she knows her champions cannot succeed alone.”

“Where did they go?” Claude blurted. “The saints, I mean. Saint Seiros stuck around and founded the church, but what about the other four? Did they stick around too?” El elbowed him. He gave a cheeky smile, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just curious.”

Dimitri wanted to slap a hand over his face, or maybe over Claude’s mouth. Claude could have asked either of them that question. It was well known that the saints split ways after the War of Heroes.

Rhea’s smile returned. “No need to apologize for curiosity. After the War of Heroes, the saints went their separate ways. Saint Indech enjoyed a life of solitude, which he returned to. Saint Macuil did much the same. Saint Cichol and Saint Cethleanne traveled the land as a duo, exploring the newfound peace of the realm.”

“And none of them stuck around to help out Saint Seiros? That seems pretty rude to just up and abandon her like that.”

Dimitri was intimately familiar with how useless prayers were. Nonetheless, he prayed for the  _ Goddess to save them from Claude’s mouth. _

Rhea, thank the Goddess, did not appear upset with Claude’s minor blasphemy. “Saint Seiros took upon herself the mantle of responsibility. Records state she was unwilling to burden her fellow saints.” Rhea shook her head. “Perhaps my example of the saints was not the best comparison. But Saint Seiros never would have been able to defeat the wicked Nemesis without her fellow saints by her side. Much as the Goddess brought together the saints, She has brought the three of you together for a reason. And in my foolishness, I have encouraged distance. It is class that is distressing you all so, am I correct?”

“We’re managing,” Edelgard managed after a period of silence. “I will not lie and say such distance is… pleasant… but we are managing. It is an obstacle to overcome.”

Rhea looked downright distraught. “Today marks a week since your return to the monastery. Such a short period, and here I have thrust you all back into your daily lives as though nothing changed…”

Dimitri winced at that. “You ensured our safety as Children of Sothis. That is not nothing.”

Rhea’s expression smoothed over like steel. “For the first half of today, you three shall study under me. My plan had been to begin your training in faith magic next week, but there is no issue in beginning today.” Her decree was absolute. Then her adamant visage cracked, and she smiled sweetly again. “Providing you three are amenable to the idea, my dears?”

Claude and El stiffened, but only just. Dimitri couldn’t help but feel relief.  _ They didn’t need to separate.  _

“We do have our duties as class leaders,” El stated. “We cannot abandon our classes.”

Claude nodded. “Plus, whether it’s comfortable or not, we'll be forced to get used to being apart one way or another. Providing Dimitri ‘n me aren’t disenheireted— which I doubt we will be looking at the current political climate— we’ll have our own territories to attend to in the future…”

Dimitri pushed down the rolling growl that threatened to spill from his throat. He knew Claude spoke the truth, but the concept was abhorrent. To be so far apart, for so long… for any length of time… 

“I understand,” Rhea agreed. “You are correct, dear Claude. Distance will be mandatory.” Rhea’s expression took a softer note. “But that will be a year from now. Forcing that distance now, so soon, is unnecessary. The three of you should bolster your spirits for the dark times ahead.” She turned to look at El. “And as for class, you are correct. Connections with your peers are important, as well as honing your leadership. I am not saying I shall cancel your regular classes. But I do believe you three deserve time to recover.” Rhea tilted her head, her eyes crinkling with amusement. “And you three look far too comfortable to move, currently.”

Dimitri swallowed thickly. Glancing to his sides, he realized El was sitting on his thigh. On his other side, he was clutching Claude up against his chest. Claude in turn had an arm wrapped around Dimitri’s shoulder, lightly gripping El’s wing. Claude’s deer half was curled around Dimitri’s backside. One of El’s wings curled around Dimitri’s back as well. He felt the tips of his ears burn. He hadn’t realized how close they had gotten. Judging by their shared wince, the other two hadn’t realized either.

Claude cleared his throat. “We, er, had a rough night…”

“My dear, you have no need to excuse yourselves to me.” Rhea gave a small but genuine smile. “It brings me great joy that you three have found comfort through such dark hardship. Please, make yourselves comfortable.”

Though he was still embarrassed, Dimitri took Rhea up on her offer and remained as he was.

“My, that was far too heavy a topic for breakfast.” Rhea picked up a piece of fruit. “I appreciate that you brought such a matter to my attention. Please, do not hesitate to do so in the future. Now, I believe you three have yet to eat an adequate breakfast.”

El’s stomach growled. He himself was feeling rather hungry.

Rhea stood and made for the door. “I shall inform your professors of your change in schedule, and gather some materials. Eat your fill, and when I return, our lesson shall begin.” The door clicked shut behind her, and then it was just the three of them on the balcony.

They dug in, though it was a little awkward with their position. Dimitri ended up balancing his plate on his lap, between where El’s legs laid over him. El sat her plate next to his. Claude balanced his plate on his forelegs.

They ate in a comfortable silence. 

“That was kind of her,” Dimitri commented after some time.

Claude hummed. “Kinda weird, isn’t it? Not gonna lie, she’s different from how I expected her to be. Hell, she’s different from the beginning of the school year.” His face twisted.

“She seems interested in knowing us on a personal level. She is showing us who she is, not the face of the Church of Seiros.”

El tisked. “She’s trying to win us over. It makes sense that she would want us willingly on her side.”

“Were she only after our political power, would she not encourage us to be apart? That would surely be more efficient. Perhaps she is being genuine in her care.”

“Do not forget  _ what _ she is, Dimitri,” El hissed. “She is a master of manipulation with centuries of experience. Do not fall for her tricks.”

“I am merely keeping an open mind…” Dimitri fiddled with a chunk of bread. “She just seems so… lonely. She seems to have none she can speak plainly with.”

“She’s trying to manipulate us, Dimitri.”

Claude waved a hand. “Maybe you’re both right. I mean, duh, of course Rhea’s trying to manipulate us. But that doesn’t mean she isn’t lonely, either.” He took a bite out of an oddly white carrot, speaking with his mouth full. “I mean, it seems a bit like she’s throwing herself at us trying to gain our favor. Hm, I wonder what she’d do if one of us made her angry…”

El swatted Claude’s cheek. “Finish chewing before you speak.  _ Honestly. _ And we will  _ not _ be testing that question of yours, Claude.”

“Hey, I’m not saying we  _ really _ piss her off. But if, say, I dunno… one of us just so happened to put together a not-so-church-sanctioned scheme involving—”

“No.”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re a stick in the mud? Because I definitely am. Edelgard, you’re a stick in the mud.”

Dimitri coughed. “She has made us  _ homemade _ meals twice now. That does not strike me as manipulative. It strikes me as a woman—”

“That beast is no woman.”

“—who wishes to connect. Think of what she said of the four saints. Of course, I knew they did not remain by her side after the war…” he shot Claude a look, adding “that’s common knowledge, by the way.” He sighed, shaking his head. “Looking at it now, it strikes me as sad.”

“Pity cannot get in the way of our goal.” El regarded him with her shrewd eyes. “Are you losing your conviction in the face of her manipulation, Dimitri?”

Dimitri rolled his eyes. “Of course not. Whether it is manipulation or not, I see a lot of similarities in myself and Rhea. That is all.” He frowned down at his plate. “I wonder if the saints were close.”

“Couldn’t have been that close,” Claude muttered.

“Or perhaps the other saints had enough sense to refrain from supporting Rhea’s reign.”

Claude tapped his chin with a carrot. “I’d say there’s no way we’ll ever know considering how long ago it was, but maybe if we could phrase the question to Rhea just right…”

“Your loose tongue will end you far before Those Who Slither.”

“Hey!”

Dimitri shook his head. “El, please. Do not say such untruthful things.”

“Thanks ‘Mitri, glad to see I can count on  _ someone _ to have my back.”

“His curiosity will bring his end far swifter than his tongue.”

“I hate this family.”

There was a beat of silence as Claude gave them both an ineffective glare. El broke first, snorting into her hand. He couldn’t stifle a small chuckle of his own.

“Your words might hold more impact if you weren’t actively involved in a hug.”

“This isn’t a hug. We’re just sitting here.”

Dimitri patted Claude’s shoulder. One of Claude’s arms was still thrown over his shoulders, and he still had an arm curled around Claude’s waist. El’s wing curled around his deer half. If they weren’t hugging, Dimitri needed to find a dictionary to change the definition. He shared a look with El. “It seems he’s in denial.”

“Indeed.”

Claude rolled his eyes. “You call this a hug? I’ll show you a real hug!”

“Claude, if you move you’ll land all of our plates on the ground. Yours included.”

Claude glanced down at the plate that wobbled dangerously on his still-curled up forelegs. He glared. “Fine, you win this round.” He munched into his carrot. “My weak point, food!” He gave a happy hum as he finished off the carrot. 

El chomped into a meat skewer. “Good to know you’re susceptible to vegetable bribery. Perhaps it is a good thing you no longer have a taste for meat— I shudder to consider how easily you might be swayed by your favorite foods otherwise.”

“I’m half tempted to toss all the meat off this balcony now. It’s not fair that you two still get to enjoy the wonders of meat.” He gave a longing stare at one of the meat skewers, moresly biting into another white carrot. “I mean, these weird carrots are good and all… Like, yeah,  _ really _ good. Suspiciously good, even. Still, I miss meat.”

“I find myself missing a good salad now and then as well,” El murmured.

Claude leaned his head against Dimitri’s shoulder. “Dimitri, look at your plate! Have you eaten anything aside from cheesy bread?”

“It has a good texture…” He glanced down at the braided cheesy bread on his plate.

El rolled her eyes. “You cannot subsist off of bread and cheese.” She plopped two hearty meat skewers onto his plate.

“You’ve got to eat your fill of meat now that I can’t. Alas, I am forced to burden you to enjoy the taste of meat in my—” El kicked him. “—stead.” Claude winced. “Oh. Right. I forgot. Sorry. This is me, shutting up now.”

“It’s fine. I don’t miss taste all that often.”

“Such an odd coincidence how we are all missing at least some degree of taste…” El shook her head. “A funny thing to share.”

“Here, try this.” Claude placed a hunk of red fruit on his plate. Shiny red beads spilled out of the shell. “Ever tried a pomegranate before? These ones are bigger than I’m used to, but that just makes the juicy pop even better.”

He eyed the pomegranate. The red berries looked very small and delicate. He didn’t like his chances of picking out the berries still attached to the main fruit, not with his clumsy hands. He took a small handful of loose berries. Chewing down on them, Dimitri was pleasantly surprised with the texture. Just as Claude said, they ‘popped’ as he bit down. “These are quite good…” He smiled. “Thank you Claude.”

“El, you’ve got no room to judge Dimitri,” Claude muttered, raising an eyebrow at her plate. It was filled primarily with sweets and sweetmeats.

El finished chewing her ambrosia-honey slathered roll before replying. “Mind your business and eat your carrots, Claude.”

* * *

  
  
  
  


Seiros was pleased.

She also felt dreadful. The poor children were still recovering, and in her eagerness she had ignored that. They were such good, brave little children, trying to hide their pain. She could not find it in herself to be upset with them for lying. They were attempting to push past what had happened to them, and she was so proud of them.

They were still wary around her, but she had high hopes that would change. She knew her position was an intimidating one. It did not surprise her that dear Edelgard was struggling. Seiros could smell the fear on her all the time— but of course the darling was afraid. Everything had been taken from her. Seiros understood the feeling.

The children were a bright spot in her life. For centuries she had felt the slow slump of failure piling higher and higher. It all came to a head twenty-one years ago in that dreadful fire. A year after that, though, and she had Cichol by her side again. Last year Cethleanne had finally woken and walked among them once again. And now mother had returned, bringing with her the three children.

It was  _ so wonderful _ to have family again.

It left a bittersweet nostalgia heavy in her chest. She hadn’t adopted children in, oh… 700 years? 800? Not since her third reign as archbishop. That had been a wonderful life in the beginning. By then Fódlan was resembling something stable. She finally had the chance to relax. She had thought that she could finally build a family for herself again. She so loved children. They could never replace her real family, but she had thought… 

For a time it had been so wonderful. But humans did not stay children for long. Humans did not stay alive for long, either. Where once she had a bounty of young ones at her hip, she had only gravestones. The pain of loss had been… difficult. She ended her reign as archbishop under that name early.

She had considered going the route of Cichol and having a child herself. Someone that wouldn’t bloom and wither in a single winter as humans seemed to. Unfortunately, her attempts had revealed another devastating blow when she learned she was barren. She had tried other methods, but only Sitri had born any true life.

She had a few companions over the years. Wilhelm had been the first. He hadn’t died of old age, though, rather falling in battle. There had been Bernhart, Luca, Gaijus, Iris, Marcelle, Simone… Jeralt was her last— and she was daily reminded how poor that had ended.

But she no longer had any reason to despair. She had mother back, and three children in tow. Mother herself was young again— it would be up to Seiros to raise mother’s youngest now. She wondered how long they would live. Mother had granted them personal boons— their crests were as strong as any first-generation crest bearer at the very least. But a gift directly from mother— would they live even longer? Perhaps their lifespans would compare to her own.

And if not, she could always tweak their crests to ensure their longevity. 

It was hard to restrain herself when it came to learning about the children. She did not want to overwhelm them, and again, she knew her position was intimidating. They were very cautious, the kind of caution she could recognize as born of experience. Seiros knew she would need to play the long game to earn their trust. So she kept her distance, gave them food, and remained a calm presence nearby. They would come to learn she would do them no harm in time. It was not so different from gaining the trust of an injured animal. Humans were more complicated than animals, but not by much.

They were guarded around her, but she liked to think that guard was lowering. She was coming to know them well.

Dimitri was such a sweet boy. Despite his loss, his heart was so wide with compassion. Such an earnest child. The boy loved with his whole heart, his love clear and proud to bear. He was protective of his new brother and sister. His embarrassment over such a trait was equally endearing. He would become a fine protector to Fódlan, his sense of right and wrong sure to serve the land well.

Claude was a bright spark. She knew his sort— unendingly curious about the world. He was one she would have to watch out for. Such curious types loved exploring into places that were dangerous. She would not have him hurting himself in his pursuit of quenching his wonder. In a way, she looked forward to his antics. His eyes twinkled with barely contained mischief. He was likely to be a handful, but he was a handful she was looking forward to nurturing. His sharp mind would keep his siblings safe from unseen threats.

Edelgard reminded her of herself. Despite the world crumbling out from under her, Edelgard held her head high and pushed forward, her eyes filled with steel. Seiros knew whatever Edelgard put her will towards would be done. There was a fire in her soul— not just the Crest of Flames, either. She cared for her people strongly, even after she had been abandoned by them. She would do well in uniting the people of the land.

She had not known these children for long, but she already loved them. 

She was so grateful to mother. The children had each other. Seiros was so, so happy they were not alone. Watching them slowly inch closer to each other when distressed warmed her heart. They clearly loved each other. She missed her own siblings.

Ah, she had gotten lost in her head again. Such a bad habit she had developed over the past few centuries… The children were waiting on her. It had not taken her long to inform the professors, but her quick trip to the basement had taken a bit more time. 

She strode back onto the balcony. She smiled at the sight that greeted her. The three were still curled together. A small flock of little songbirds had settled on the balcony. Two sat on Edelgard’s shoulders, one in Dimitri’s lap, and one nesting in Claude’s hair. 

She was pleased to see they had finished their plates. “Thank you for your patience. I trust breakfast was acceptable?”

Edelgard nodded. “It was very good, thank you.” A third bird hopped onto her shoulder.

Such a polite dear. “I am glad to hear it. Making friends, are we?”

“They’re definitely making themselves at home,” Claude replied as another small bird perched on the highest crook of his antler.

“Well, you needn’t disturb them.” She pulled out the three small metallic panels she had brought with her from the basement, laying them in front of the trio. The children’s eyes were immediately drawn to the plates.

Despite her words, they shifted their position. Not separating, she noticed. Edelgard shifted off of Dimitri’s lap, returning to perch at her abandoned cushion. She still leaned against his shoulder, one of her wings still tight around her brothers. Claude shifted as well, leaning against Dimitri’s other shoulder instead of his chest now. The little birds scattered, but she supposed that was for the best.

They looked up at her, three eager young children to learn. She was so happy to nurture them.

“There is no single way to learn faith magic, as faith is a very personal thing. No two people believe exactly the same. Before we begin, I will determine where your baselines lie.”

Dimitri spoke up first. “My understanding of faith magic is abysmal, I am afraid. I was taught to use a lance, rather than anything of the magical persuasion.”

Seiros shook her head. “That will come later. No, I wish to know how much you three know of the faith itself.”

Dimitri winced. “Ah. I know the basics… I often attended church services with my father, and later my step-mother.”

“I do not know much myself,” Edelgard admitted. “What memories I have of attending church are hazy in my memory.”

Claude gave a shrug. “Pretty much the same for me. I’ve read the books, been to church, the standard. Magic’s never really been my thing, though.”

She hummed. It was about what she expected. It was good, actually. They were three blank slates. This way, she could prepare them for the  _ real _ truth of the Goddess. The truth of their mother. “The Goddess is in all things. The Goddess is always with us. Through her guidance, all is possible. I am sure you have all heard such before.” She smiled. “We are all children of the Goddess. Beneath her love, all is possible.”

“The art of healing is not so difficult. The Goddess’ love is vast, and she is always delighted to ease the pain of her subjects. It is the first step that is most difficult. That is why we will be practicing later in our lesson.” Seiros lifted one of the plates she had brought from the basement. In her other hand she withdrew a slim dagger. She dragged the sharp tip down the plate, creating a slim cut. “This is a synthetic material. It does not feel, think, or breathe. It is, however, alive.” A blot of black oily ichor rolled from the cut. “Through the Goddess,” she cast a small heal spell on the material, the tear sealing up, “all can be healed.”

“This is… alive?” Dimitri murmured, looking down at the plate in front of him with a queasy look.

“In the barest sense, yes. Much as the bark of a tree lives. Not as you and I live.”

Claude reached out to brush a hand over the plate before him. “Huh. Feels like metal, but also… not?” He poked at it. “It’s got a little bit of give to it, kinda like skin. It’s cold, but there’s a warmth underneath…?”

“Practice material, then.” Edelgard correctly deduced.

“Yes. You may think of it as artificial flesh.”

“How did this come to be…?” Claude murmured, lifting the panel to look at it from other angles. “Is it grown, or made? How can metal be alive? How would—”

She noticed Edelgard elbow Claude, cutting off his mumbles. Seiros couldn’t help her fond smile. “Perhaps I can answer those questions for you at a later date, dear Claude. However, the details would take a long period to explain. That is not the purpose of this lesson.”

“I’ll definitely take you up on that.” There was an excited spark in the boy’s eyes. Like a deer discovering a salt lick in the forest, she couldn’t help but think. 

She gave a small laugh. “I am certain you will dig into the subject yourself, one way or another.” Not that he would find anything on the topic, of course. It was all in her head. But it wouldn’t do for him to drive himself up a wall looking for answers he wouldn't find.

He winced, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. She smoothed away the urge to cup his cheek. It would not do to push too soon.

She wouldn’t tell him everything, of course. Truth, yes, but… heavily curtailed truth. The panels were magical in origin, but also organic. Her early attempts at creating life had all been failures, but they bore fruit nonetheless. Her firstborn, Wilhelm, still resided within the basement as a protector. The fleshy scales shed from his skirt were perfect for this exercise. 

She would give enough to sate the boy’s wonder, just enough that he would assume she told him all there was to know. And if he was a good boy, maybe she would treat him and show him Wilhelm or Iris or one of her nicer children. Just not Marcelle or Simone. Those were her last children before Sitri, though she hadn’t created them the same as their older siblings. Marcelle and Simone were her only two children that had been human once. It wouldn’t do to allow them around Claude’s silver tongue, lest he learn something hurtful.

Not for the first time, she wondered how mother’s three youngest would fair under her experiments.

She returned to the lesson. “There are many different methods of faith, which is why many healers have different spells they can and cannot perform. Tell me, can any of you name some healing spells?”

“Heal,” Claude immediately replied with.

She giggled. “Yes, indeed. An obvious answer, but no less correct. That is one of two spells every soul can learn. What is the other?”

“Nosferatu,” Edelgard answered. “An offensive spell.”

“Correct. Very good. Now, what of others?”

“Physic, Recover, Restore, Warp and Rescue, Seraphim…” Edelgard trailed off.

“Silence,” Claude added.

“Aura?” Dimitri tried.

“Those are all correct answers, very good. Of course, for the practical portion of this lesson we shall later focus on Heal. For this discussion, we will be focused on two intermediate spells. There are two spells that nearly every soul can learn one of, but never both. Can anyone tell me what those two are?”

“Warp and rescue?” Claude guessed.

“Close, but not the answer I am looking for.” 

“Recover and Physic,” Edelgard answered. “It is said that those with more faithful souls can cast Physic, and those with less faith are only able to cast Recover.”

“Recover and Physic, correct, very good my dear! However, you are incorrect that only the most faithful can cast Physic. It is a common misconception. Whether one can cast Recover or Physic depends on where one draws their faith from.”

She placed one hand before her, palm raised to the sky. Her other hand, she clenched to her chest. “Recover,” she moved the hand by her chest, “and Physic,” she moved her outstretched hand. “The internal, the external. Inward, outward. To draw strength through oneself, or from outside. Pull and push. Active and passive. Can any of you tell me the properties of these spells?”

“Physic can be cast from a distance, but Recover cannot,” Dimitri hesitantly answered.

“Correct, very good. They are, in truth, the very same spell. It is the mentality they are executed with that changes the effect.” 

She clutched both hands to her chest. “Recover is a spell cast from within oneself. Those who use Recover are active vessels of the Goddess, seeking to bring about Her will through their own power. They channel the Goddess inward, believing themself as the instrument She may work through to bring forth change. In times of strife, these individuals draw strength from their inner resolve and will.”

She spread both of her hands, palms facing up. “Physic users are often passive, content to allow the Goddess’ plan to play out around them. They channel the Goddess outward, casting out their hope and faith to give to those in need. In times of strife, these individuals draw strength from the comfort of a higher power.”

She clasped her hands together before her. “Recover is a far stronger spell, the intensity coming from the caster’s inner faith. Physic, though weaker, has a far greater reach as the caster casts out their faith externally. Neither spell is inherently better or worse than the other, just as we as people are all different yet beloved by the Goddess.” She paused. “Ah, forgive me. I slipped into something of a sermon there, I suppose. Was that an understandable explanation?”

Claude regarded her with something keen in his eyes. “What about those who can’t cast either Recover or Physic? Are you saying they aren’t as good as those who can?”

She blinked. There was nothing hostile to his smile, but she noted a layer to his words. “Mm, no, not at all. My advisor’s sister, Flayn, is unable to cast either. She is a very proficient healer— her lack of such spells do not make her lesser. It is just that there are few who are unable.”

Claude nodded. “I see.” He tapped his chin. “There are a lot of different types of people. Some are better than others, though. Right?”

She shook her head, giving him a disappointed look. “I do hope you do not believe as such, dear Claude.”

He shrugged. “Isn’t that what the Book of Seiros states? Or do those outside of Fódlan not count as people?” He smiled easily, but there was something sharp in his eyes.

Edelgard elbowed Claude again, her face impassive. Dimitri, however, was far more expressive. He shot worried eyes towards Claude. How curious.

“Where was it that you were taught the faith, Claude?”

His face didn’t change, but his ears bolted upright. After a moment he winced, rubbing a hand along them. “Sorry, heard something in the distance. Still can’t control these things.”

“That is quite alright, my dear. Where was it that you learned of the Seiros faith? The teachings at times differ from region to region, you see.”

He waved a hand. “Here and there. My parents weren’t super religious or anything, so I never got much more than the basics.”

Seiros hummed. “I see. The Western Church, much to my displeasure, is very hostile towards those from outside of Fódlan. Their doctrine is far stricter than that of the Central Church’s, you will find.”

“Well, Fódlan’s pretty isolated. Can’t really blame them. All anyone ever sees of other lands is skirmishes along the border. Not really something that lends people to a good impression of each other.”

“That’s no excuse,” Dimitri muttered.

“Lady Rhea, you dislike such doctrine?” Edelgard asked. “Why not change them, then? You are the archbishop.”

“I am no tyrant. I have influence, yes, but I cannot command others what to feel or think.” She gave Edelgard a sad smile. “This, unfortunately, is something you will come to know keenly in your future.”

Edelgard pursed her lips, but remained silent.

Fódlan’s isolation was necessary, but there were times it came back to bite her. Humans were all rather silly, defining themselves as so different from each other. “Those outside of Fódlan do not respect our ways, but that does not make them evil. I think, my dear Claude, you may find yourself surprised by those born outside our borders. It is my hope you will think on such a mentality and ask yourself why you may consider others lesser merely for their birth. Even in Garreg Mach we have those employed from outside the land. Shamir, a mercenary from Dagda, is one of my most trusted knights. Cyril, a boy from Almyra, is an earnest and hardworking soul. It is vital for a ruler to respect their subjects, just as their subjects respect them.”

Claude had a peculiar look on his face. “I’ll consider your words.”

Seiros clapped her hands once. “Ah, I suppose we have gotten off track. Nonetheless, thank you for sharing your thoughts, dear Claude. I would love to speak more on such matters in the future. To wrap back to the lesson— there are many different forms of faith. Though different, they are all to be cherished. Now, I wish to hear between the three of you, as an exercise: which side of faith do you believe you fall on? Internal, or external?”

Edelgard went first. “Internal. I would not describe myself as passive by any means.” Claude snorted, and she elbowed him for a third time. “The Goddess may be watching from above, but it is up to mortals to see change enacted.”

Claude and Dimitri exchanged glances. “Yeah, pretty sure I’m internal too,” Claude said. “I’ve never been one to hope and pray my problems will fix themselves.”

Dimitri bit at his lip, brow furrowed. “I… I am unsure myself. Perhaps I fall on neither side.”

Seiros hummed. “Possible. Well, it matters not— time will tell. This is merely an exercise in perspective.” 

“What about you?” Claude asked. “Which can you cast?”

“An excellent question.” She reached over and ruffled his hair, careful to avoid bumping his antlers. He stiffened, but to her delight, he did not pull away. She longed to comb his bed-head into something more proper. “I will answer, but I wish to hear the three of you give your guess first.”

“Physic, I would wager,” Edelgard said. “You strike me as a more passive individual.”

“I’m with El. Clearly you’ve got a lot of faith in the Goddess. As archbishop, I at least hope you do! So it would make sense that you’re good at ‘casting out’ your faith, as you put it.”

Seiros nodded. “And Dimitri? Your guess?”

“I think… Recover?”

“Oh? Might I hear your reasoning?”

He fiddled with his hands. “Ah, perhaps it is silly. I was remembering a sermon of yours I heard, in which you spoke of the importance of enacting the Goddess’ will through our own hands. I imagine it must take a great deal of faith in oneself to act as the head of the Seiros faith.”

She felt pride. “You are correct, Dimitri. I am able to cast Recover, not Physic. Very astute observation.” She treated him with a few pats to his head.

“A-ah, thank you. I was mostly guessing…”

She gestured to the plates at their laps. “Now we come to the practical portion.” She cut into each of the plates, slicing a decent sized wound on each. “Healing is a magic done by instinct. It cannot be taught from a book, though many have tried.”

“Ah, archb— um, Rhea… None of us know any of the symbols used in healing magic.” Dimitri was such a shy boy, it was very endearing. He was trying so hard to open up to her. She would need to find some way to reward him. All of them, actually— all three of them were such good children… 

She knelt before Dimitri, smoothing a hand down his hair. “You need not worry about that, dear. Healing sigils amplify the healer’s ability, but are not necessary. In fact, were one to have the proper array but no magical training, the sigils are useless. No, what matters more is feeling.” 

Dimitri looked down at the plate. “But… I do not know any magic.”

“My dear, do not think of this as ‘magic’. That sort of thought will hold you back. This is something you are capable of.” She placed her hand over Dimitri’s, guiding his hand to the oozing cut. She was so proud of how he stifled his flinch at the warm substance. “In order to heal, all you must do is believe. You must have faith that the ‘skin’ beneath your hands will knit close.”

Dimitri did not look convinced, but that was what she was there for. She looked to the other two. Edelgard was glaring something fierce at her plate. Claude, much to her amusement and lack of surprise, was thoroughly examining the panel before trying anything. They were both adorable in their own ways.

They were all such  _ good _ children… 

  
  
  
  


* * *

The little bird that decided his hair was messy enough to be a birdnest did little to distract Claude’s swimming thoughts. Rhea would return anytime, and when she did he would have to bluff his way past the literal founder of the religion. 

Claude had assumed he would have more time to prepare before their faith lessons. His plan had been to study with El and Dimitri, just to double check that he wouldn’t say anything blasphemous. Still, he wasn’t entirely upset with the opportunity. He would much rather curl up against El and Dimitri than split up for class. Especially after the past two days… 

He was a bit concerned, though. He hadn’t even realized he had more or less snuggled up against Dimitri and El until Rhea called them out on it. Sure, he’d been focused on Dimitri’s distress at the time… It was still odd. 

As far as Fódlan’s religion went, he at least knew the basics. He was as far from being pious as possible, but he also tried to blend in. After all, if he slipped up on something small that every man, woman, and child grew up learning in Fódlan, he might as well scream from the rooftops that he was a foreigner. He knew enough to get by. He’d done his research— he’d read the book of Seiros, read the tenets, and had even been coached for a short period when he first came to Fódlan.

But there were some things that couldn’t be taught in such a short timeframe. Everyone around him had been suffused in the religion since their birth. What was a strange, weird, and occasionally horrifying religion to Claude was normal for every citizen of Fódlan. It wasn’t anything they questioned, often because no one realized there was a question to be asked at all.

He’d been told the basics, but he didn’t  _ know _ them like everyone around him. Edelgard might not have grown up with good opinions about the church, but she was still raised in a society revolving around it.

All this considered, he wasn’t nervous. He wasn’t looking forward to it either, but this game was an old hat for him. He knew how to smile and nod, how to evade questions he didn’t know, how to give the impression he knew everything. He’d been running with the same threat over his head for the past year in the Alliance. In some ways, Claude was looking forward to whatever Rhea might let slip. She was an invaluable source of information, if he could just ask the right questions… 

Then Rhea had to bring out those interesting slates.

_Artificial flesh?_ _What the fuck?_

It was unlike anything he had ever touched. The closest it came to was a foreign material that he had once seen gifted to his father,  _ rubber. _ It was a rare export from lands far away. Stretchy yet solid. But the plate before him was different. It was cold like metal, hard like metal, even looked like metal. But with enough force his fingers sunk into it. Not like how weak copper bent— no, it gave to his prodding like  _ flesh. _ Like a giant insect carapace, like rubber, like flesh, like metal, and like none of that.

How the hell did it work? Was it melted from ore like metal, harvested from a tree like rubber, or maybe taken from some sort of exotic animal? Some sort of leather? No, Rhea said it was alive. Was it  _ grown? _ Something both alive and not alive. How could metal be alive? 

He didn’t realize he was mumbling aloud until El jabbed his ribs.

Rhea smiled at him. Thank the Gods she didn’t look offended. “Perhaps I can answer those questions for you at a later date, dear Claude. However, the details would take a long period to explain. That is not the purpose of this lesson.”

That was  _ exactly _ what he wanted. “I’ll definitely take you up on that.” She was  _ offering _ to be a willing source of information? He was  _ dying _ to ask her all sorts of questions about things he knew he couldn’t. She was a  _ primary source! _ Biased, yes, but she  _ experienced _ centuries. She must have more secrets buried in her head than Claude had questions, and Claude had a  _ lot _ of questions.

She gave a small laugh. “I am certain you would dig into the subject yourself, one way or another.”

He winced. Well, she wasn’t wrong. He was well known around the monastery to be nosy, though the image of him skulking about and sniffing out secrets had been mostly replaced by his new pristine deer image. But to his delighted surprise, Rhea seemed she might  _ encourage _ his questioning. 

His opinion of her was… not great. It didn’t have anything to do about Edelgard’s knowledge of her being an immortal dragon, either. He needed to do more research into Rhea’s level of influence over the centuries. He had doubts that she was the tyrannical overlord El lauded her to be. And hey, dragons were— well, not  _ people—  _ but they were fellow sentients. He didn’t want to judge Rhea on that alone. No, he disliked her because of the way she ran her church and her continued isolationist ideology. He couldn’t fully blame Almyra and Fódlan’s racial tensions on her, but he could lay a big part of that blame at her feet.

Then Rhea launched into her faith lesson and Claude was forced to pay attention lest he say something stupid. He actually managed to get what seemed to be, as far as he could tell, an  _ actual genuine giggle _ out of the archbishop.

What began as a pop quiz on types of faith spells became actually interesting. The way Rhea explained the differences between Recover and Physic were fascinating. 

“…Neither spell is inherently better or worse than the other, just as we as people are all different yet beloved by the Goddess.” Claude blinked in surprise. “Ah, forgive me. I slipped into something of a sermon there, I suppose. Was that an understandable explanation?”

_ Riiiight. _ Because the Goddess just  _ loved _ the heathens across the border. “What about those who can’t cast either Recover or Physic? Are you saying they aren’t as good as those who can?” 

She blinked. “Mm, no, not at all. My advisor’s sister, Flayn, is unable to cast either. She is a very proficient healer— her lack of such spells do not make her lesser. It is just that there are few who are unable.”

Claude nodded. “I see.” He tapped his chin. “There are a lot of different types of people. Some are better than others, though. Right?”  _ Fódlan is better than Almyra, Almyra is better than Fódlan, crests are better than crestless, et cetera, et cetera, damned et cetera. _

She shook her head. “I do hope you do not believe as such, my dear Claude.” Her tone dripped with disappointment, much to his shock.

He shrugged, deciding to push just a little further. “Isn’t that what the Book of Seiros states?” The book at one point described  _ ‘a darkness from the north that devoured the earth, desecrated the heavens, and threw the world into a state of chaos.’ _ Arrogant to call Fódlan ‘the world’, but that was a Fódlan staple at this point. By his guess, the  _ ‘darkness from the north’ _ was invading Srengi. That wasn’t the only part of the book that dehumanized foreigners. “Or do those outside of Fódlan not count as people?” He’d been called enough dehumanizing things by people that saw him as nothing but the color of his skin to know what the general population thought.

El elbowed him again. He ignored her.

“Where was it that you were taught the faith, Claude?”

Maybe he shouldn’t have ignored El. His treacherous ears bolted up in alarm at the question. He couldn't exactly say he learned the finer points of it in Garreg Mach the week before school started. Worse, she definitely noticed his ears. “Sorry, heard something in the distance,” he lied. “Still can’t control these things.”

“That is quite alright, my dear. Where was it that you learned of the Seiros faith? The teachings at times differ from region to region.”

Damn, she wasn’t about to leave the question be. He waved a hand. “Here and there. My parents weren’t super religious or anything, so I never got much more than the basics.”

She hummed. “I see. The Western Church, much to my displeasure, is very hostile towards those from outside of Fódlan. Their doctrine is far stricter than that of the central church’s, you will find.”

He blinked in surprise. The central church’s doctrine was very strict, in his opinion. He wondered how much worse the Western Church could be. He’d have to ask Dimitri. “Well, Fódlan’s pretty isolated. Can’t really blame them. All anyone ever sees of other lands is skirmishes along the border. Not really something that lends people to a good impression of each other.”

“That’s no excuse,” Dimitri muttered beside him.

“Lady Rhea, you dislike such doctrine?” El asked Rhea. “Why not change them, then? You are the archbishop.”

He held back a wry twist to his lips. Surely El knew better than that. King, Emperor, or immortal archbishop— no leader had complete control of their people. If that were the case, Claude’s father would have demanded Almyra accept him and his mother, and life would be all rainbows and daisies. It didn’t work like that.

“I am no tyrant. I have influence, yes, but I cannot command others what to feel or think. This, unfortunately, is something you will come to know keenly in your future.

Oh, he  _ knew _ El wanted to say something to that. However, it seemed she had a lot more restraint than him. He mentally scheduled  _ ‘listen to El’s rant about Rhea’ _ for later in the day. Maybe if he was lucky they would be too tired after Byleth’s lesson.

“Those outside of Fódlan do not respect our ways, but that does not make them evil. I think, my dear Claude, you may find yourself surprised by those born outside our borders. It is my hope you will think on such a mentality and ask yourself why you may consider others lesser merely for their birth. Even in Garreg Mach we have those employed from outside the land. Shamir, a mercenary from Dagda, is one of my most trusted knights. Cyril, a boy from Almyra, is an earnest and hardworking soul. It is vital for a ruler to respect their subjects, just as their subjects respect them.”

Okay, now he penciled  _ himself  _ ranting about Rhea into that schedule. Which, he had to give her credit, she was preaching what he wanted to hear. She was a damned walking contradiction,  _ apparently, _ but at least she wasn’t actively advocating for bigotry. Aside from the isolationist thing. Did she have no idea about the discrimination those around her faced? Dedue faced massive racial biases, all negative. He hadn’t met either of the two that Rhea mentioned (and he mentally made a note to avoid Cyril at all costs, lest he be recognized,) but he would bet his left hoof that they both faced some level of discrimination. 

There was some rich irony in  _ Rhea  _ telling  _ him, a literal Almyran, _ that he should be less judgmental of outsiders. At least it was a roundabout way of confirming that Rhea had no idea who he really was. He counted that as a win.

She clapped her hands together. “Ah, I suppose we have gotten off track. Nonetheless, thank you for sharing your thoughts, dear Claude. I would love to speak more on such a thing in the future.”

He had to give a point in Rhea’s favor. She wasn’t belittling him for his perceived ‘wrong opinion’, and instead was opening it up for discussion. Or, more realistically, lecturing him. Still, could be worse. 

He wondered… if he asked a more dangerous question, would she be so forgiving?

“To wrap back to the lesson— there are many different forms of faith. Though different, they are all to be cherished. Now, I wish to hear between the three of you, as an exercise: which side of faith do you believe you fall on? Internal, or external?”

El went first. “Internal. I would not describe myself as passive by any means.” Claude snorted. Edelgard was as passive as a rock wasn’t. For his transgression she elbowed him for a third time. “The Goddess may be watching from above, but it is up to mortals to see change enacted.”

He exchanged a glance with Dimitri. Dimitri looked conflicted, so Claude went next. “Yeah, pretty sure I’m internal too.” Considering he didn’t even worship Fódlan’s Goddess… “I’ve never been one to hope and pray my problems will fix themselves.” At least, not since he was a kid. He learned quickly how useless praying was at solving anything.

Dimitri wasn’t able to say either way, which Claude found interesting. If he had to guess, Dimitri would fall on the internal side of faith like himself and El. The prince’s quest to personally extract revenge for his people and those of Duscur didn’t scream  _ ‘sit on my ass praying and do nothing’ _ after all. But if he wasn’t going to say anything, Claude wasn’t about to either.

He had to wonder about Rhea herself. On one hand, she never seemed to leave the monastery. Hard to be an ‘active’ practitioner of the faith when she never went anywhere. Then again, considering she was in fact the Saint Seiros of old, the one that books claimed to be the ‘Sword of the Goddess’, who supposedly personally slew Nemesis… 

He was about to throw that question onto his never ending pile of questions when he realized he could just  _ ask _ her. So he did. She had stated multiple times that she liked him speaking his mind, after all.

“An excellent question.” Just like he thought, she seemed pleased that he asked.

And then she leaned forward to ruffle his hair.

He froze under her hand as she tousled his hair. Her hand was gentle and careful. All he could think was ‘ _ what the fuck’ _ on loop. She gave him a smile that, if he read her right, looked proud. Not as in an arrogant pride, but as in she looked proud of  _ him. _ Something in his gut clenched at the look. When he did nothing but stiffen, that gentle smile only grew more genuine. Instead of pulling back after a few moments like he assumed (and hoped) she would, she instead continued to play with his hair.

_ Maybe Dimitri was onto something about Rhea being lonely. _

He shot calm eyes at El that weren’t half as wide as he internally felt. Her face was frozen in a neutral expression as she too appeared to be internally screaming right along with him.

It wasn’t  _ bad _ exactly (it was actually rather nice, if he looked at it objectively). It was just that it was coming from _ Rhea, archbishop of the Seiros faith. _ Hidden under El’s wing, he felt his tail give an involuntary wiggle. It wasn’t a wiggle he’d ever made before. He had no idea what it meant.

“I will answer, but I wish to hear the three of you give your guess first.”

El quietly cleared her throat as Rhea continued to  _ pet his hair what the fuck. _ “Physic, I would wager. You strike me as a more passive individual.”

Only  _ El _ would take what she knew of Rhea, literally  _ Saint Seiros, _ and call the woman  _ passive. _ Then again, he knew why she would say that. He could hear her ranting in his head already…  _ “She has resided in her seat of power for how many centuries now without any reform? She sits in her throne the same as others slink through the darkness, pulling puppet strings and refusing to dirty her own vile hands.” _ Or something like that.

“I’m with El,” he said nonetheless. She could be either, or maybe neither. “Clearly you’ve got a lot of faith in the Goddess. As archbishop, I at least hope you do! So it would make sense that you’re good at ‘casting out’ your faith, as you put it.”

Dimitri was the one that got it correct.  _ Finally _ Rhea stopped touching him, moving over to give Dimitri a few quick pats.

“Now we come to the practical portion.” She gestured to the weird slabs of metal… artificial flesh… stuff. He watched as she cut a knife through the surface of one of the slabs like she was cutting through butter. Black blood-like liquid oozed out of the cut. She did the same for all three of the slabs.

Claude peered at the slab in front of him, lifting it up. It was a nice square, about a foot long and across, and a few inches thick by his guess. It wasn’t light by any means, but wasn’t as heavy as metal of the same size would be. There was a meaty heft to it. He tilted it, letting the viscous ‘blood’ roll to the side as it sluggishly continued to bleed.

He picked up his knife from his earlier meal, picking at the cut Rhea had sliced into it. He lifted the top layer of… ‘skin’ and tried to make out the blackish meat underneath. Just like flesh, it seemed the top layer of the ‘skin’ could be peeled away. 

He had plenty of experience poking around inside human flesh with knives. Having a healing crest made exploring at his own wounds a simple affair. And, hey, he was a curious guy. What was a little pain in return for some knowledge? He’d poked around in his own skin enough to recognize both how similar and how alien the ‘artificial flesh’ really was. It was more spongy. The texture was off. It was like someone used meat as a baseline and forgot halfway through.

His blunt knife wasn’t enough to cut through the metallic shell of the ‘skin’. He poked around under the cuticle. The texture was  _ very _ meat-like, yet different. There were little meaty bubbles of the oily blood stacked together. Angling the slab so the sunlight would better shine into the cut, it reminded him of the inside of a cactus or succulent. It was like a thick slab of cactus-meat wrapped in a thin layer of metal.

He leaned closer to the slab. It smelled strongly of oil and blood. Then again, how much of the ‘blood’ smell was just the metallic smell? He wondered what it tasted like. He wasn’t curious enough to try it though (not yet, at least). The one time he’d licked oil as a child had been more than enough of a deterrent to try it again.

He dug around in the ‘meat’ with his knife for any veins. If there were any, the section that was cut had none. He wondered how the thing… ‘lived’. Did it need sunlight like a plant? Did it need to be fed? Did it circulate blood? Rhea mentioned it didn’t need to breathe… Could it ‘die’?

“You should at least try,” El murmured to him under her breath. He blinked, remembering suddenly that he was supposed to be doing something. Glancing at El, she hadn’t made any headway in healing her slab. Glancing down, he realized he’d been actively  _ damaging _ his. Whoops.

Rhea was attempting to guide Dimitri, her hands laid over his. Considering Claude was still pressed up against Dimitri’s side, it was unsettling to realize he  _ forgot _ about the archbishop’s pressense so close to him. He’d gotten far too distracted.

He thumbed over the slice cut on his slab. The ‘blood’, he noted, was warm. How the hell was he supposed to heal it?

Well, he healed himself all the time with his crest. Maybe it was similar to that? He didn’t have much experience with faith healing, as Almyra used a different system primarily. In his single year in Fódlan, he couldn't think of a single time faith magic had been used to heal him.

Eh, couldn’t be too different from his crest, right?

His crest felt like warmth. It knit wounds back together with an unnatural heat. It didn’t hurt, but it was always uncomfortable to physically feel his flesh twine back together. He had theorized that, as the crest rebuilt his nerves, they became oversensitive. Didn’t hurt exactly, just… uncomfortable. 

He rubbed a thumb along the open slit, warm black tar oozing along his finger. He obviously wasn’t going to pray to a Goddess for this. He didn’t  _ not _ believe in Sothis exactly, but he wasn’t about to worship her if she existed either. Claude had grown up with a pantheon of Gods, each as failable as the humans that worshiped them. Blind faith towards any figure was foolish. Whether Sothis was real or not, he couldn’t say. But he wasn’t about to pray to her (aside from his little joke prayers. Those were fun).

His crest couldn’t be used on other people, but that wasn’t his intention. He might not have faith… but maybe he could fake it with confidence. That’s basically what faith was anyways, right? Pretending really hard? There was no reason he couldn’t do that.

Actually, there were a ton of reasons. The biggest one being that  _ wishing  _ achieves nothing. The ‘meat’ under his hands wouldn’t magically knit back together just because he wanted it to. That wasn’t how life worked. 

Still, he gave it a shot.

He eyed the oily insides of the slab. Should he visualize a cactus, or flesh? He went with flesh, since he had more understanding of that. The ‘blood’ wasn’t clotting, but that was fine. He could work with it.

Every living thing worked to repair itself. From every person whose scrapes healed to every leaf that sealed up a ripped edge, everything healed itself. Healing magic just sped that up (he assumed). Regeneration was a natural thing in all things that were alive. The slab under his fingers was alive, so it had to be trying to regenerate itself.

He could visualize it perfectly. The capillaries of oily blood that he ruptured would be the first to repair. If he was, theoretically, aiding it with ‘healing magic’, then the slab would fill with warmth. It would probably feel the same as when his own flesh repaired deeper wounds. The fleshy tissues would retwine together. When the inside of the meat was repaired, he would be able to pinch the outer skin together and let it repair itself. Just the same as if he were to pinch together a shallow cut on his own skin. As he kept it pinched together, the insides would reseal back into one whole. He’d wait, say, a minute before letting go.

He let go.

“Huh.”

He ran a thumb along the surface, wiping away at the oil. The metal was seamless.

He looked up just in time to see El double take. “You— you did it?!”

He prodded at the healed slab. There was a line of scar tissue, but overall… “I guess I did. Huh.” Scar tissue on metal? Weird.

“Oh, congratulations Claude!” Dimitri gave him an earnest smile.

“Very well done.” Rhea rested a hand on his shoulder as she peered closer at the slab. She took it from him, running a hand along the surface. “Oh my, you even healed the internals as well! Not perfectly, but far better than I expected for a first attempt.”

“How did you do it?” Dimitri asked. Claude could read between the lines.  _ ‘How did you do that, you’re a faithless heathen’, _ but like, in a nice way.

Claude nearly rubbed the back of his neck before he remembered his hands were coated in black gunk. “Eh, my crest heals all the time. I based it off of that. You know, visualized it. It wasn’t so much that I fixed it, I was just trying to, er… speed up the natural regeneration, I guess.” He shrugged. “It wasn’t so hard if I focused on the details.”

“Is that so…? A unique method for a unique boy.”

He resisted the urge to tell Rhea not to call him a boy. There was something uncomfortable about the way she said that. It was probably the ‘maternal’ tone she used, though it was foreign to any mother figure he had ever known. Again she ran her hand through his hair, which was equally uncomfortable. He was beginning to realize Rhea was a touchy person.

“I just worked with what was already there. It was guess work.” Usually he took pride in his abilities, but something about this… He wasn’t sure faith magic was something he  _ wanted _ to be good at.

“You had faith in your abilities,” Rhea added, her hand disturbingly soothing against his scalp.

“Not really? I was thinking about it in a theoretical sense. I didn’t actually expect it to work.”

“My, a  _ very _ unique method for a very unique boy. I’m very proud of you.” Rhea finished curling a hand through his hair by resting her hand on his cheek. She looked so damned delighted and proud and tender and fond and…  _ Gods _ he felt so uncomfortable. He fought the urge to fidget under her watchful eyes.

His tail wiggled without his input. It wasn’t a wiggle caused by discomfort, he realized. It was the same wiggle his tail made earlier. He didn’t know what it meant, but he had a theory. He didn’t like the theory.

He felt… a little bit happy. Not because he managed to heal the slate. No, it was the way Rhea looked at him. He wasn’t sure anyone had  _ ever _ looked at him with such open tenderness before. He liked it. Maybe more than just a little bit. And that terrified him.

She  _ looked _ genuine. Plenty of emotions could be faked, but there were a few that couldn’t. He’d never seen anyone fake  _ tenderness _ before. He’d seen fake love, fake closeness, fake friendliness, fake care, fake kindness. He’d never seen the expression Rhea leveled at him, the way her eyes crinkled over a small proud smile. Not fake, not even genuine. It was new, and he didn’t like it. Except he did. He liked it a lot.

With an aching slowness, Rhea patted his cheek and returned to aiding Dimitri. He should be happy her eyes were finally off of him.

_ Maybe El was onto something about Rhea being manipulation. _

He felt rattled, the unease he’d felt around Rhea blooming into a terrible understanding. His insides clashed with conflicting emotions.  With a sinking dread, he realized he wanted Rhea to look at him like that again. He felt an urge to make her proud of him. Had  _ anyone  _ ever been proud of Claude? His parents loved him, but had they ever said they were  _ proud  _ of him?  _ Fleeting smiles, rough claps at his back, the occasional hug…  _ No, he realized, they never had. 

_ “I knew you could do it, my son,” _ he remembered his father telling him with a solemn nod after he made his first bullseye. As if it had been inevitable. Not a big deal. No warmth, just a fact. That hadn’t been pride, it had been expectation.

_ “You cannot settle for less, my little star,” _ his mother once told him as she bandaged his cuts. He’d won a scrape with a bigger boy, and he’d been  _ so proud _ that he won. His mother hadn’t been. She had told him that  _ good enough _ would never be enough for someone like him, not when the world would eat him alive given the chance. She had tended to his wounds with love and care, but she hadn’t been proud. She had just told him to win next time without being hurt.

Was Rhea  _ really _ the first person to be proud of Claude, in all of his 17 years of life? She was the first person to  _ show  _ him her pride, if nothing else. He’d given up on that kind of validation years ago. He wanted it again. He wanted— 

He wanted to get as far away from Rhea as possible.

“There,” he heard El give a triumphant sigh. He realized he’d been spacing out for a few minutes.

Sure enough, the cut on her slate was gone. Better than Claude’s, as there was no scar tissue. He threw together a grin. “Lookit that. Did my advice help?”

She shook her head. “Not at all.” She huffed. “I was becoming rather frustrated with it. I decided the slate had no choice but to be healed, whether it wanted it or not.”

“Healed by nothing but your inner will. Well done.” Rhea picked up the slab to examine it. “Very well done. You did a fine job of healing the outer layer. A good first try. You show much potential, my dear. In the future, be sure you heal from the inside out. Underneath the skin is still damaged.”

El’s smug look deflated. “I see. I will keep that in mind.”

Rhea cupped El’s chin, lifting her eyes to meet Rhea’s. “My dear, be proud of this. You have done well.”

He watched as El’s expression softened. She nodded. Rhea smiled, then turned back to Dimitri. Claude watched with wide eyes as El sighed, looking down at her healed slate. She gave the slate a small smile.

Then that smile crumbled, a brief moment of sheer horror playing over her face.

Claude immediately looked to Rhea, relieved to see her full focus was on Dimitri. Claude reached behind Dimitri’s back to squeeze El’s shoulder. He would have preferred to lean over Dimitri’s lap and comfort her directly, but Rhea was in the way.

She sucked in a breath before shooting him a grateful look.  _ “I’m fine,” _ she mouthed. He didn’t let go of her shoulder, offering her a nod.

_ “Almost done,” _ he mouthed back. At least, he  _ hoped _ they were almost done. He wasn’t sure he could stand to be around Rhea much longer.

“I do not think I am cut out for this, Lady Rhea.” Dimitri hung his head, his shoulders slumping.

“Do not be discouraged. The success of others has no bearing on your own progress. To be truthful, I expected none of you to be able to cast a Heal spell today.” She reached down to pat Dimitri’s cheek. “Even the most beautiful of flowers take time to bloom. It will come to you when the Goddess wills it.”

Dimitri looked up at her and gave her a half hearted smile. His lion tail gave a small but happy wag.

Claude’s stomach churned. 

They were to have personal faith lessons with Rhea two times every week, starting next week. He was already feeling the urge to please her after their first lesson. That wasn’t even including the breakfasts Rhea was sure to invite them to. How long would it take before he lost his sense of discomfort around the archbishop? If he lost that, then what?

It wasn't like he _needed_ to please Rhea or anything. It wasn't even a hard compulsion to ignore (was it a magical compulsion, or was he just been that starved for acceptance without realizing it?) It would be fine. _They_ would be fine. He just needed to be extra vigilant now. Everything would be fine. He'd never been a people pleaser, he wasn't about to start being one now.

Thinking about the way Rhea looked so proud of him, his tail wiggled again.

_ Fuck. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> El: RHEA IS MANIPULATIVE!  
Dimitri: NO, SHE'S LONELY!  
Claude: Oh shit, she's _both_
> 
> Rhea: Now, my dears-  
Claude: I'm the only deer here, actually.  
Rhea:
> 
> SHIT y’all I bashed my head against that faith section SO HARD. It just would not. be. written. I tried writing from Claude’s POV like 3 times and I had to scrap all of it as boring or ooc. It wasn’t until I had the idea of writing from Rhea’s POV that I FINALLY got something decent. Of course, then I was sad to have to scrap the small but introspective sections I liked from Claude’s pov. In the end, I actually did both Rhea and Claude’s pov and am satisfied with both. The downside… I ended up writing so much that this chapter had to be cut down. A good downside to have, but also frustrating lol. 
> 
> This chapter, partially brought to you by the thought of: 'what if Rhea's Golems are half-organic?' If I have to suffer, so do all of you.
> 
> The faith magic discussed is actually something I noticed only when trying to bash my skull against a chapter explaining faith magic. The game gives ZERO info about it, other than the fact that it doesn't have to come from the Goddess (ie: Dorothea's able to get good at faith because she has faith in Byleth). I thought it was interesting that every unit can learn either Recover or Physic, but not both. When looking at the list, I realized that they roughly fell into a category of 'faithful' and 'less faithful'. Looking closer though, I realized that wasn't strictly true. The 'active' and 'passive' is a rough descriptor that I'm happy with the two categories, though it could also be described more as 'unwilling to accept their fate' vs 'willing to accept their fate as fate', though that's not perfect either. Mentally I have an explanation for why every unit falls into the category they do, but that'd take forever to explain with no payoff lol. That said, I have no idea what's up with the 'neither' camp.
> 
> Anyways, I hope it was interesting/made sense!
> 
> Recover: Edelgard, Hubert, Dimitri, Dedue, Felix, Annette, Claude, Lorenz, Hilda, Raph, Cyril, Hanneman, Jeralt, Yuri, Seteth, Rhea, Cathrine, Alois  
Physic: Bernadetta, Mercie, Ashe, Ingrid, Leonie, Marianne, Ignatz, Linhardt, Dorothea, Sylvain, Shamir  
Neither: Lysithea, Ferdinand, Petra, Manuela, Flayn, Gilbert, Balthus, Constance, Jeritza
> 
> Next chapter: Rhea discussion, embarrassing childhood stories, and a certain someone to the rescue


	15. My mom can beat up your mom (oh shit, sorry, I forgot your mom is dead)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Actual?? Communication?? About Rhea?? More likely than you think. Ft. 'What is a mom, anyways?' , 'Baby's First Scheme' , 'Childhood trauma trumped by Childhood embarrassment' and 'a fuckton of dialog'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is slightly on the shorter side due to reasons listed in the previous chapter. It's also all in one chunk, how abnormal for me. Next chapter will be longer than average, though. I'm very excited to get to it 
> 
> Also, thank you to everyone that commented about how creepy last chapter was! ^-^ Glad to hear that landed perfectly. I've been awful at replying to comments recently, so I apologize about that. I try to at least reply to comments that have questions if nothing else, but sometimes they slip under the radar x_x I love you all <3

**Thursday, 8th of Harpstring Moon**

  
  


Dimitri thought, all things considered, their faith lesson with the archbishop went over rather well.

The stifling silence from El and Claude painted a different picture.

“You two did well,” he broke the silence, uncertain what else to say. “I mean no offense when I say this, but I’m surprised either of you managed the spell.”

Claude snorted. “You and me both.”

Unfortunately, his comment did not spark a conversation like he hoped. There was a tension in the way El and Claude held themselves. By his guess, they picked up on some subtly that had flown over his head.

They walked along the path towards the dining hall. El hesitated as they got close. “I am still feeling rather full from breakfast. Surely you two are the same.”

Dimitri cocked his head. He wasn’t all _ that _ hungry, but he wasn’t full either. “Well—” 

“Same here. Kinda nauseous, actually. What’dya two say we take a lunch-time nap instead of going to the dining hall?”

“I won’t object.” Dimitri hated how flat-footed he felt. He was missing something. “What am I missing?”

Claude’s ears flicked. “Not here.”

Dimitri nodded. That was understandable. 

They were stopped before they made it to the dorms, however. 

“Lady Edelgard.”

“Hubert.” El’s shoulders lost a degree of tension. “I trust class went smoothly today.”

Hubert nodded. “We were informed of your absence. I trust your time with the archbishop was…?” He gave El a long look that Dimitri had no idea how to interpret.

“All is well. How goes patching the hole in your window?”

“Progress is being made. Though I have yet to find the rat skittering in my room.”

El nodded. “I trust that will be taken care of.”

“Of course.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I also trust that you are taking care of yourself. Yes?” It was not a question.

“Heya Claude!” Hilda’s bubbly greeting was jarring next to Hubert’s somber attitude, her bright pink coloring even more jarring next to Hubert’s dark presence. “We missed you in class today!” She popped out from behind Hubert. Hubert glowered down at her, but she didn’t seem to notice. Or perhaps she was just ignoring him. With Hilda, he couldn't be sure.

Claude ran a hand down his face. “Ugh, I missed class too. I had _ faith _ training, Hilda. Faith training!”

Hilda tisked in sympathy. “Well shucks, I’d trade places with you if I could. Sitting and praying… doing nothing all day… sounds great to me!” She leaned forward, patting a hand down Claude’s deer half. To Dimitri’s surprise, Claude relaxed marginally at the gesture. “By the way, Dedue was looking for you guys.”

Dimitri winced. “Ah, I forgot to—”

“I informed him we would be with Rhea for breakfast yesterday,” El interrupted him. He gave her a grateful smile. She glanced at Hilda. “Do you know what he wanted?”

Hilda shrugged. “Not sure. He said Byleth asked him to do something? Apparently he was up all night. He was pretty tight lipped about it though.” She gave an exaggerated pout. 

Dimitri frowned. He thought back on his conversation with Byleth the day prior. His memories were embarrassingly lacking. “I see.”

“Yeah, he said he was going to leave something in your room, but the door was locked. Which, hold on, our doors have locks?”

Claude winked. “Mine does now.”

Dimitri, through exasperated self-control, refrained from correcting Claude’s statement. At least someone was happy with Dimitri’s property destruction.

Hilda shrugged. “Anyways, he said he left it in Dimitri’s room. I’m dying to know what it was, so you guys should totally go check it out.”

The three of them exchanged glances. “Alright. Guess we’re off to go do that, then…”

“Don’t leave me hanging too long!” Hilda shouted after them as they headed towards the dorms.

Hubert hung behind them like a shadow. Dimitri knew El trusted the man, but he still felt uncomfortable around him. 

Claude snapped his fingers. “Oh yeah! El, you never answered my question this morning about laundry!” Claude’s ears drooped for a moment before returning to normal, his expression never changing. Dimitri’s chest tightened with guilt.

El nodded. “Ah, yes. Hubert, I know this is a bit below your usual duties…”

“Lady Edelgard, I shall do whatever you need done.”

“Ah, our bedding is… fur and feather covered. Would you—?” She looked only the slightest bit sheepish.

Hubert gave a small bow. “It shall be done.”

Dimitri was surprised at the man’s readiness. He had assumed Hubert would scoff and turn his nose up at the idea. Then again, the man was nothing if not devoted to El. Him and Dedue were alike in that manner. Dimitri wondered if there was any task Hubert would refuse from El. Remembering how he cleaned up the gore left behind from their assassin, he doubted it.

El smiled at her retainer. “Thank you. What with our… previous ‘night-time guest’, I only want those trusted around our belongings. Perhaps it is a touch paranoid—” she spared a glance at Claude, “—but it would not surprise me if someone might attempt to powder our sheets with something unpleasant.”

Did poison come in a powdered form? He would have to ask Claude when they were in a less public place.

“Door’s locked,” Claude reminded them.

El rolled her eyes. “Right. ‘Locked’. I’ll let Hubert in, then, and you two can investigate this mystery gift.”

Dimitri tensed. “We can wait.” He mentally cursed himself. He _ needed _ to get over his inability to separate. He _ would. _ But… tomorrow, maybe.

El grimaced. “Right. Right.”

They stopped at Claude’s room first, dragging out their laundry for Hubert. Claude poorly hid his cackles at Hubert shuffling down the hall with their bedding. El cuffed him over the head in retaliation. 

After passing the bedding off, they lingered in the room. Dimitri caught El’s arm as she went to leave. “You two are still tense. Why?”

El’s lips thinned. “It is nothing.”

Claude rolled his eyes, crossing his arms into an X. “Nope, I agree with Dimitri. We’re talking about this. Look, I need to make sure we’re on the same page, and poor ‘Mitri’s entirely in the dark. We can get this uncomfortable business out of the way, and then we can cleanse our pallets by taking a look at Dedue’s mystery gift.”

“You don’t even know if it’s a gift,” El muttered.

“But it _ is _ a mystery.”

Dimitri cleared his throat.

“Right.” El’s shoulders straightened. She looked past him. “Due to certain circumstances present during our lesson with the archbishop, I have been reviewing what I know. It is well known that Saint Seiros was said to have a commanding presence that brought people to follow her. Indeed, some say it went so far as to be a _ compulsion. _ Beyond that, Rhea has many knights and followers under her service that are devoted directly to _ her, _ not the church. Thus, I have come to the conclusion that the archbishop is employing a charming spell to those around her.”

Dimitri blinked. “What?” 

Claude rubbed his chin, his expression pinched. “You make a valid point, but that could just be her natural charisma. She’s had centuries to perfect her personal skills, after all.”

El shook her head. “No, I find no other explanation for it. The archbishop is attempting to put us under her spell, just as the rest of her knights are.”

“Huh?!”

“Look, El, part of me wants to believe that too. But…” Claude had an uncomfortable look in his eyes. “You can’t just ignore the parts of this that embarrass you. You’ll never get the full picture that way.”

“Embarrass? Claude, you aren’t making sense.”

“Neither of you are making sense,” Dimitri interrupted. “Why are you convinced Lady Rhea is trying to, er, ‘charm’ us? Can you two _ please _ start from the beginning?”

Claude made a sound in the back of his throat. “Dimitri, when you were unable to cast the Heal spell, how did you feel?”

Dimitri frowned, unsure where Claude was going with this. “I suppose… ashamed. Unsurprised.”

Claude nodded. “And how did you feel after she comforted you?”

“A bit mollified. It was nice to see that Lady Rhea did not judge me for my inability. Her words were kind.”

“Anything else?”

Dimitri struggled to remember anything else. Rhea’s words had soothed the bitter disappointment in his chest. _ ‘Even the most beautiful of flowers take time to bloom. It will come to you when the Goddess wills it.’ _Her words reminded him of his step-mother. “I suppose, in the moment, her words made it feel as though all would work out in the end. Comforting. I still don’t understand what you’re getting at.”

Claude looked to El. “What about you? Just so we’re on the same page.”

El grit her teeth. “Claude, you know very well what I felt. I would rather not admit it out loud.”

“I don’t, though,” Dimitri muttered.

“Fine.” El clenched her fist, glaring at the floor. _ “Unwillingly, _ when Rhea told me I did a good job, I felt…” She violently shook her head, growling. “I felt pleased at her words. Only for a split moment. I felt _ proud. _ Followed by horror, of course.”

Claude nodded. “Proud because of the look Rhea gave you, and not because of your actions. Right?”

El gave an angry exhale. “Yes.”

“Same here. Caught me off guard.”

“I think I am misunderstanding…” Dimitri _ had _ to be misunderstanding. “Are you two upset because Rhea praised you?”

“Not upset,” Claude refuted, “just uneasy. It’s not the praise that was odd, it was my reaction to it.” He grimaced, his tail giving a little wiggle. “I liked it.”

“You… Of course you liked it! You did a good job!” Dimitri shook his head in disbelief. “Claude, have you never received a _ compliment _ before? People do not just say them for no reason. Complements are meant to be enjoyed.”

El rolled her eyes. “Have you never received a _ fake _ compliment before, Dimitri? Those are not so enjoyable.”

“But Rhea wasn’t giving either of you fake compliments. I know I may not be the best judge of character, but she did seem genuinely pleased…”

_ “Too pleased,” _ Claude muttered. He shuddered. “It was creepy. She was so…” He made a face. “Doting. Overly friendly. Almost tender? Way, _ way _ too touchy.”

“Claude… Are you trying to say you’re creeped out because Rhea acted _ maternal?” _

“What? No, of course not. Don’t be ridiculous. _ Maternal? _ Did you guys consider her actions maternal?” 

Dimitri tapped his chin, a wistful sadness sinking in his chest. “Now that I think of it… Her actions sharply remind me of my step-mother.” Not the sharp biting words of her tormented ghost, but the kind and loving way she treated him in life.

“Dimitri, you would do well to not compare my mother with that _ beast.” _

Dimitri resisted the urge to pinch his brow. “You need not take that as an insult, El. Surely you felt it too? Rhea was very motherly towards us.”

Her lips curled with disgust. “Perhaps so.”

Claude rolled his eyes. “Rhea’s like, the complete opposite of motherly. My mom could totally take her in a fist-fight.”

Dimitri just… stared at Claude for a moment. Objectively, he understood both sentences. Pairing them together, on the other hand, he did not. “Claude, you have said many, many nonsensical statements before. This is definitely one of them.”

“Claude… are you judging how ‘motherly’ someone is based off of how well they do in a fist-fight?”

Claude looked at them like _ they _ were the weird ones. “I mean, that’s not the _ only _ trait.”

“I’m curious now. What, exactly, makes someone ‘motherly’ in your books?”

Claude shrugged. “I dunno… uh… Someone who takes care of you when you're sick or hurt… loves you no matter what… scolds you when you get caught pulling off a scheme… always ready to pummel anyone that hurts you… yells at you for not doing your chores… pushing you to be strong and uh, reach your potential? You know, mom things.”

_ “Mom things.” _

“I agree with the first two.” Dimitri shook his head. “I suppose, though, I am not an expert in mothers. I never knew my birth mother, and only had my step-mother for a short time.”

Claude winced.

El nodded. “I am no expert either. Many of my memories of my mother are hazy at best. Nonetheless, I know enough to know that most of those traits you listed, Claude, are _ not _ motherly traits.”

“Pff, like which ones?”

“‘Pummeling’ people is not a motherly trait.”

“You’re only saying that because you haven’t met my mom. Besides, ever heard the term ‘mama-bear’? It’s very motherly for a mother to be willing to murder anyone that threatens her baby.” Claude gave a confident nod.

Dimitri exchanged a glance with El. “Ah… perhaps we will have to consider this a cultural difference.”

“My mom’s native to Fódlan, in case you forgot.”

“Forgot? No. You never mentioned it, actually.”

Claude waved a hand. “Details.”

El rubbed her forehead. “Claude, you’ll just have to trust us when we say that you’re the outlier here.”

“Clearly we need a bigger sample size…” Claude muttered.

“As much as I hate to say it, Rhea did act very… ‘motherly’ towards us.” The disgust on her face made her opinion on the concept very clear. “She knows two of us have lost our mother. Clearly, she is attempting to capitalize on that.”

“You two are jumping at shadows. Not everything is a plot. Other than the stress of listening to Claude run his mouth—”

“Hey!”

“—I thought our session to be rather nice. Quaint.”

“You weren’t the one she kept _ petting,” _ Claude grumbled.

“I thought you liked being pet?” Not as much as Dimitri did, but Claude usually melted when someone scratched behind his ears.

“By people I trust, sure. By Rhea? Hell no.” He sighed, shaking his head. “I will agree with one thing though. Rhea seems very lonely.” His face twisted. “I have a bad feeling that she’s trying to fill that loneliness with us.”

“Is that so bad?” Both El and Claude opened their mouths to respond, but he kept speaking. “Just hold on a moment! I am _ attempting _to look at this from your paranoid perspectives. If Rhea is trying to win us over, is that not to our benefit? Already we have reaped benefits from her favor, as she allowed us to remain together today. You both are convinced Rhea is attempting to manipulate us— there is nothing stopping us from manipulating her back.”

He felt a little proud at the way Claude and El stared at him in stunned silence.

“Wow. I’m going to tear up.” Claude turned to El. “Our baby boy, he’s growing so fast. His first scheme.”

Dimitri glared at Claude.

“Well Dimitri, I’ll admit, I’m impressed. How ruthless of you.”

“Ruthless?! I’m not saying we do anything bad!”

Claude leered at him. “No, you’re just suggesting we extort a lonely old woman for all she’s worth.”

“That is _ not _ what I said!”

El cleared her throat. “I’ll concede this point to you, Dimitri. Her… ‘affection’, providing it is even halfway genuine, can be a great boon to us…” The disgust on her face painted a different picture on what she thought about the idea.

He sighed. “I am just saying we play along. Which, mind you, is what we have been doing.”

“I am still convinced she is using magic to compel us,” El muttered. “But, considering we are aware of it, that should make resisting it simple. We _ must _ remain vigilant. You especially, Dimitri.”

He rolled his eyes. “Of course. It starts with being given compliments, and before I know it, I’ll be burning down Fhirdiad on Rhea’s orders. It’s just such a slippery slope.”

Claude gasped. “Sarcasm? From _ our _ Dimitri? El, our little Dimitri, he’s all grown up!”

“And if you _ are _right, El, and there is a magical compulsion involved, I trust you and Claude are more than paranoid enough to see through it.”

“Alright, alright. Now that we’re all on the same page— or at least reading the same book— we have more pressing concerns.” Claude clapped his hands together. “Can we take a peek at that mystery thing from Dedue yet? I’m _ dying _ over here.”

Dimitri spared Claude a fond look. “I suppose we have no choice but to investigate. Can’t have you dying on us.”

“Claude, I doubt it’s anything too exciting. You’re working yourself up for disappointment.”

Claude stood at the door, just shy of prancing in place. “Figuring out what it is is half the fun. It could be a rusted lance for all I care! Now open the door!”

Dimitri’s lips curled into a smile. “I thought you liked the fact that the door has a ‘lock’ now.”

“Oh, I do. Makes assassination attempts much more difficult.” Dimitri winced, but Claude kept going. “I wish _ I _ could ‘unlock’ it myself, but being forced to sweet talk the keys is a trade I’m willing to make.”

El rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. Giving a rough tug up at the door handle, it clunked and opened. Claude zoomed out into the hallway. Much to his ire, he felt his stomach jolt as soon as Claude was out of eyesight. A moment later and he heard Claude sputter, the sound of clopping hooves, and then Claude stuck his head back into the doorway.

“You almost tripped,” El said with a smirk.

“You have no proof of that.” Claude winked. “Now come on.” Moving two doors down, Claude practically vibrated in place as he stood at the door. “So, any idea what it is? Why would Dedue do a favor for Byleth? What could it be?”

Dimitri gave a fond smile, patting Claude’s back. “Unfortunately, if I asked any favors of Byleth yesterday, I do not remember them.”

“Something involving cooking, maybe? Hm, maybe Dedue helped Byleth smoke some extra fish? I can’t think of anything…” Claude mumbled to himself.

“We are literally standing in front of the answer, Claude.” El huffed. “If you’re so curious, open the door.”

Claude waved an arm. “You’re no fun.” He placed his hand on the door handle. “If this is a booby-trap, tell the world Claude von Riegan died doing what he loved.”

“Dithering?” El drawled.

Claude pouted. “Uh, _ no. _ Exploring mysteries. Duh.” He cracked open the door, poking his head inside Dimitri’s room. “Damn, Dimitri, your room’s so clean. I don’t see…” Claude sucked in a breath.

“Claude? What is it? Open the door all the way.” El tugged the door fully open.

Claude gave a small cry and shot forward towards whatever he saw. Dimitri tensed, his ears perked for danger.

“My blanket!” Claude gasped. He lifted up the golden bundle, an unrestrained grin splitting his face. 

The long rip Dimitri had torn through the quilt was neatly sewn together in light-blue thread. The rip Dimitri had assumed impossible to fix was carefully put back together.

Dimitri felt a punch to his gut at Claude’s expression. His eyes shone as he stared up at his blanket, pure joy and relief playing across his face. It was the most genuinely happy Dimitri had ever seen Claude.

“Oh,” El whispered, “Dedue must have sewn the rip.”

Dimitri nodded dumbly. Claude clutched the big blanket like it was a lifeline. He pulled the blanket to his chest, burying his face in the fabric. His hands fisted into the golden quilt. Claude settled on the ground, curling inwards to hug the lost blanket. He gave a shaky intake of breath. He made a small keen, so quiet Dimitri nearly missed it.

Dimitri’s stomach dropped. _ Of course _ Claude had been lying about being unaffected. Claude hated showing weakness. And… Claude cared about Dimitri. It made sense that Claude would downplay his feelings. He had lied for Dimitri’s benefits.

But Claude had lied to him.

And Dimitri hadn’t seen through his lies. Dimitri had _ believed _ he was fine. _ Why? _ Because it was easier for him to believe the blanket didn’t matter much to Claude? It had been easy to believe that Claude wasn’t too upset, because it meant Dimitri didn’t feel as guilty. _ Selfish of him. _

El took a knee next to Claude, rubbing a hand along his back.

After a few moments, Claude pulled his head up from the quilt. “El, look!” He nodded down to the blanket still clutched to his chest, as if El wasn’t already looking. He beamed. “She’s fixed!” He turned to Dimitri, glee lighting up the room. “I thought you said she was destroyed!” He laughed, squishing his face back into the fabric. “Thought you meant, like, cut to ribbons!” His voice came out muffled.

“I couldn’t remember the exact damage. I’m sorry…” Dimitri stared down at the floor.

Claude’s ears twitched. He looked back at Dimitri, cocking his head. His blinding smile cooled into something more regular. “Hey, I told you I didn’t blame you. It’s okay.” He held up part of the blanket before tucking it back over his chest. “And she’s fixed now! No harm done!”

Dimitri attempted to smile back. “Of course.” Judging by Claude’s furrowed brow, his smile was just as awful as it felt.

“Okay, for once I’m not in the mood to play 20 questions. What’s wrong?” Claude’s narrow eyes were too sharp to look at, so Dimitri looked at the floor instead. “If you’re just feeling guilty about my quilt, it’s fine now. So what is it?”

“Honestly,” El muttered under her breath. She kicked the door shut behind him and took him by the hand. She sat him down beside Claude, settling in between them. She spoke down to him like she was reprimanding a child. “Dimitri, stop beating yourself up about this. I know you think it’s ‘noble’ or some nonsense, but it’s only a waste of all of our time. This martyr complex of yours is only detrimental.”

“That’s not it…”

“Well? What is it then?”

Dimitri stared at his hands, unable to think of a proper way to explain his feelings. He was upset at Claude for lying, but Claude lied for Dimitri’s benefit. It wasn’t fair of him to be upset, was it?

Claude groaned. “Is this a secret, Dimitri? Am I going to have to sacrifice a secret to get you to tell me? Huh?”

“N-no, I… I’m sorry, I…”

_ “Saints, _ stop apologizing!” El didn’t quite yell, but she did raise her voice.

Dimitri bit his lip. “Fine.” He met Claude’s eyes, the mix of curiosity, concern, and searching gaze just so uniquely _ Claude. _ “I have no right to be upset, as you were the one hurt here.”

“I’m not hurt, Dimitri.” Claude rolled his eyes.

“I’m not finished…”

El stuffed her hand over Claude’s mouth. “Continue.”

It took him a few moments to continue. “As I said, I have no right to be upset, and I’m sorr—” El’s glare cut him off. “Well. It’s just… you lied to me.”

Claude cocked his head. “I did?”

“You said it didn’t matter,” Dimitri made a tiny gesture towards the blanket still clutched to Claude’s chest. “Even worse, I believed you.”

Claude’s eyes drifted down to the blanket he still clenched in his fists. “A-ah… right…” Claude’s piercing gaze broke away. “Well… er, it _ is _ a bit embarrassing… You know… getting upset over a blanket. It’s— it’s just a blanket, after all.”

El poked Claude’s cheek, a fond smile replacing her previously annoyed expression. “You really do like that blanket.”

“Well— yeah!” Claude puffed up his chest. “It’s a good blanket!” After a few moments he wilted. “What point would there have been in telling you? It was an accident, and you were obviously beating yourself up about it. Still are, looks like. It’s fixed and better, so stop that.”

“I know that.” Dimitri’s tail lashed against his will. How could he explain that it hurt that Claude wouldn’t trust him with his feelings? Dimitri trusted Claude, trusted that he didn’t need to search Claude’s every statement for hidden meanings. But maybe Claude expected the opposite? Maybe Claude thought that if Dimitri _ really _ cared, he would look deeper at what Claude said. But wouldn’t Claude be upset if Dimitri second-guessed his every word? He shook his head. _ Claude _ was the good one at thinking, not him. “You have your answer. I feel guilty because I took your words at face value, because it was convenient to me. I knew your quilt was important to you, and I dismissed that fact in the face of your words. I should have known a keepsake from your home was more valuable to you than you would outright say.”

“I told you, it’s fine. And it’s not just that it’s from home, that’s not why I…” Claude thumbed the fabric between two fingers, looking down at it with a soft expression. “Ugh. Since I… sorta dragged that secret out of you Dimitri… want one in return?”

“You don’t have to tell me. I’m sorry I wasn’t honest, and I’m sorry I felt upset. I have no ri—”

El shoved a palm against his mouth. “Yes Claude, Dimitri wants to know. Dimitri, since I _ know _ you’re trying, I’ll give you a hint: Claude wants to open up, but telling secrets is like pulling teeth for him. So he’s using this as an excuse.”

“Oh, that makes sense…”

Claude gave El a downright baleful glare. “You’re the worst.” He did not, Dimitri noticed, deny El’s claim.

“Water is wet and Dimitri is dense. Quoting you, ‘chop chop tell us the secret’.”

Claude pouted. “I never said that.” He took a moment for himself, still thumbing the fabric in his hand. “This is… er, my… The blanket is, um… Ahah, this is sort of hard…” Claude’s voice lowered to a whisper. “I’ve had… I mean, it’s been… since I was… She’s… ” His face was turning red, unable to look either of them in the eye.

“Are you sure you’re comfortable—”

“She’s my first friend!” Claude shouted, his face bright red as he glared at the ceiling. “Since I was a kid! Yes, it’s childish, I know! She’s my baby blanket, yes I still take her with me, I know! That’s why she’s important!” He slammed his face back into the blanket. “Shut up!” He muffled into the fabric.

El’s expression softened. She patted Claude’s back.

“Oh.” Some of the guilt in his chest thawed. That Claude trusted him with such a personal detail… “I had a stuffed lion, when I was little,” Dimitri began. “I took him everywhere. His name was Pan. I haven’t thought about him in a long time, but…” Dimitri sighed. “I lost him one day when I was playing. I was inconsolable for a week straight, and prone to fits of crying for months. If I had never lost him…” Dimitri glanced at Claude, who was peeking at him from where his face was still pressed into his quilt. “I’m certain I would still have him with me, even if only tucked away in my dresser. You have nothing to be ashamed of, Claude. I’m a little envious, actually. I am _ so _ relieved that Dedue was able to fix your blanket.”

Claude sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Thanks. ‘S still embarrassing…”

“I cannot remember if I ever had a toy or blanket like that as a child,” El confessed. “Such memories for me are hazy at best. But…” She puffed out a breath. “Just so we’re clear here, laugh at me and you will regret it.”

Claude just gave her a deadpan look, his face still half-snuggled up to his quilt.

“Ahem. Right. Well, I too… have a… bear stuffy… that I cannot sleep without… ” Her face rivaled Claude’s for how red it was. She coughed, looking away. “Well! See, you have nothing to feel embarrassed about Claude.”

“Can’t say I expected that from you,” Claude murmured, “but… thanks.” He heaved out a long sigh. “Wow, that felt surprisingly good! A whole load off my chest. Also terrifying! My stomach is still churning! Dimitri, how do you maintain your whole ‘honest’ schtick all the time? I don’t think I have the constitution for it.”

“El, you can bring your bear stuffy to bed, if you want. You know now that neither Claude nor I will judge you for it.”

El pinched the brow of her nose, still looking very embarrassed. “Were you anyone else, Dimitri, I would assume you were mocking me. I appreciate your words, but… I haven’t needed him to sleep, recently.”

“Because now you have a deer and lion stuffy to snuggle instead?” Claude's voice was, mercifully, not mocking. A little smug though.

“Quite so.”

Claude grinned, looking much more like his usual self. “Happy to hear that we can outperform a stuffed bear.” He wiggled his tail and winked. “I’ve been told my fur is the softest around, you know. If you change your mind though, your bear stuffy is always welcome in my room.”

“Does it have a name?” Dimitri asked El, thinking of his own beloved lion Pan. He missed the old thing… 

Her blush, beginning to recede, returned in full force. “Does it matter?”

“Well, I named my lion Pan…”

“Claude, does your blanket have a name?” El interrupted him.

To Dimitri’s surprise, Claude winced and looked away. “Ahah… who names their blanket?” His deflection was very unconvincing.

“Felix named his blanket, when we were little,” Dimitri’s lips quirked into a fond smile. “It was his ‘blankey-cape’ if I recall correctly…” He choked as he realized what he said. _ “Do NOT _ tell Felix I said that.”

“Well, we don’t want Felix committing regicide.” Claude winked. “Felix’s secret is safe with me. Not safe with you, apparently, but that’s fine.”

“It’s not really a secret, just, well.” Dimitri coughed. “So, no name for the bear, El?”

“That’s a shame,” Claude commented as he sat up straight. “Maybe we could help you name it.”

“He has a name.” El’s face was still burning up. “Surely if you’ve had this blanket since you were a child, Claude, it must have a name. You referred to it as a she.”

Claude winced. “Well, sure. The name’s in Almyran though. Neither of you would get it.”

“What’s it translate to?” Dimitri asked.

“Quilt.”

El snorted. “If that were all, you wouldn’t be embarassed to tell us.”

Claude rubbed a hand at his neck. “It’s admittedly a very childish way to refer to a quilt. Alright so we know mine and Dimitri’s— what’s your bear called?”

El pursed her lips. “You didn’t even tell us— nevermind. Claude, have I ever mentioned that your unending curiosity is a menace?”

“No, but you’ve thought it very loudly.”

“His name is Blackberry.”

Claude tilted his head. “Blackberry? That sounds like a fine name to me.”

“Is his fur black?” Dimitri asked. She nodded. “A black bear named blackberry… oh! Black-_ bear- _y!” Dimitri slapped a hand over his mouth to keep himself from laughing. She gave him a deadly glare.

Claude had much greater success hiding any amusement. “I didn’t take you for the pun type… You always hate mine.”

“Shut up.”

Claude put a hand in front of him. “No judging! It’s a cute name! Blackberry is always welcome to join us at night.”

“I like that name,” Dimitri stated as soon as he was sure he wouldn’t accidentally laugh. “I just didn’t expect it from you.”

“You know, I didn’t expect either of you to have anything like,” Claude gestured to his quilt. “Wouldn’t it be funny if it turned out that most people had something like this, but they were just too embarrassed to admit it?” Claude smirked. “Hey El, does Hubert have a bear stuffy he sleeps with?”

El rolled her eyes and swiped at Claude’s ear.

“I’m glad Dedue could fix it,” Dimitri murmured. “You never would have told me how important it was, would you.”

“You felt guilty enough as it was.” Claude huffed. “Still too guilty, if you ask me. It was an accident.” His eyes drifted down to the quilt. “I’m no stranger to my things being broken. It was almost nice for once, that it wasn’t malicious.”

“I’ll be more careful in the future. I promise you.”

“Now that’s the kind of apology I like to hear! Much better.” He sat up straight, a faint blush still darkening his cheeks. “And… thanks. For not, uh, laughing. Or whatever.”

“Thank you for trusting us with the truth.”

Claude laughed. “You know, a month ago I wouldn’t have even _ considered _ telling that to anyone, let alone actually going through with it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Claude: You know...  
*makes a punching motion*  
Claude: Maternal!
> 
> Rhea, teaching a class on brawling, suplexing knights without breaking a sweat  
Claude: Oh shit, she really is maternal... 
> 
> With these three combined, they _almost_ have a clear picture of what the term 'motherly' means. Claude will bring this argument up again, and he will bring it up around people that will not support his views, much to his annoyance.
> 
> The blanket is safe! Huzza! Byleth (and Dedue, who enjoys needlework) to the rescue! It warmed my heart to see so many people commenting about their own childhood blankets/stuffed toys/other objects in chapter 13
> 
> It's somewhat surprising to me how many characters enjoy sewing. Dedue, Mercedes, Bernadetta, and even Gilbert. Also I totally forgot until just now, but Annett actually has 'doing laundry' listed under her likes lol. And considering Dedue enjoyed 'housekeeping', he's likely to get the more permanent laundry job. Hubert just so happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. But anything for Lady Edelgard! I'm sure he doesn't mind... too much. The Officer's Academy seems to encourage students to do their own chores, and I doubt Hubert would want Lady Edelgard wasting her time/energy on something so trivial. And at the same time, the dude's paranoid. Maids and servants are just /asking/ for trouble. So... maid!Hubert! Somewhat. lol
> 
> Next chapter: Training w/ Byleth, found family- but not how you might expect, and some unpleasant animal instincts


	16. Sassy Child and His Well-Behaved Siblings Found Abandoned in Forest, Adopted by Local Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New instincts are discovered, much to Claude and Dimitri's embarrassment. El puts up with her boys (little does she know, her turn will come too)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whenever I get stumped on how to start a new section, I just pull out ‘what weird thought/theory does Claude have now’ and run with it. Works every time.

**Thursday, 8th of Harpstring Moon**

**(Midday)**

The three of them were meandering about the grassy field on the edge of the forest, waiting for Byleth.

Claude was staring at the ground, deep in thought. He’d been staring at the same patch of grass for multiple minutes at this point. After being reunited with his quilt, he’d been in a bright and cheerful mood. To be fair, all three of them had cheered up. Now, however, Claude seemed to be mulling over something deep. Claude never stopped thinking, as far as she could tell.

“What do you think Byleth will have us do today?” Dimitri asked aloud.

“More running and flying, perhaps?” she guessed. “Though, we seem to be doing good on that front. I need more practice flying,” she rolled her shoulders, flexing her wings open, “but the two of you seem to have ‘walking and running’ down well enough. Claude isn’t tripping half as often anymore.”

“Huh?” Claude looked up. “I heard my name?”

“What do you think we’ll be doing today?” Dimitri repeated himself.

“No idea.” He went back to staring intently at the grass.

She shared a fond smile with Dimitri. “Dare we ask what has his wheels turning this time?”

He returned a rare teasing grin. “As impressive as his mind is, perhaps it would be unwise to ask. Madness would surely plague us were we ever to know.”

Edelgard brushed a wing across Claude’s back. “Yeah?” He didn’t look up as he leaned into her feathers.

“Are you overthinking our faith session with Rhea?”

He shook his head. “What? No, that’s not what I’m thinking about at all.”

“Do we want to know?” Dimitri asked the real question.

Claude tapped his chin, bending one of his knees to get closer to the ground. “I’m wondering if I can digest grass.”

Edelgard slapped a hand over her face. “Of course you are.”

Dimitri gave a sagely nod. “It’s my fault for expecting differently.” He looked unsurprised, like this was a law of the world. Snow was cold, fire was hot, and Claude’s mind could never be predicted.

“It’s a legitimate question!”

Edelgard rolled her eyes. “Well? Are you going to try or not?”

“Huh. I thought you’d try to stop me.  _ ‘Don’t eat the weeds, Claude, it’s unbecoming’ _ or something like that.”

“I do not sound like that.”

“Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“Some weeds are edible,” Dimitri piped in.

“Technically, most things are edible,” Claude agreed. “Edible doesn’t mean ‘not poisonous’, mind you, but still.” Claude bent over to get closer to the ground. “How am I supposed to do this?”

“You’re  _ really _ going to eat the weeds.”

“I don’t see why not.”

Edelgard opened her mouth to tell him it was unbecoming, then thought better of it.

“Can you graze?” Dimitri asked, sounding earnestly curious. “Do deer graze?”

Claude stood up straight, then leaned his torso forward. His human torso folded in half, to the point that his head was upside down near his forehooves. The position looked extremely uncomfortable, but Claude gave no signs of pain. His antlers scraped the ground, yet he wasn’t close enough with his face to reach any grass.

“Proportions aren’t right,” Claude mumbled as he straightened. “Grazing like a horse is a no, I guess.” Claude tucked his legs under him and laid down in his ‘loaf’ position. He bent his head down to ground level, taking an experimental sniff of the short bushy grass.

“Well?” Edelgard asked in a bored tone, masking the fact that she was honestly curious by now. “How does it smell?”

“Smells like…” Claude paused, then winked, “grass.”

“I could have told you that.” Dimitri plopped down beside Claude.

Reluctantly invested, she sat down on Claude’s other side.

Finally taking the plunge, Claude bit into a clump of grass. Pulling back with his neck, a chunk of roots and dirt came with the grass. He went cross eyed looking down at it, reaching up with his hands to tug off the excess. He gave a few experimental chews.

Dimitri’s eyes practically shone with his curiosity. “How is it?”

“It’s… not bad?” He chewed a bit more, an uncertain look on his face. “Not great either. Bland. Stringy, not in a good way.” He swallowed. “I mean, I’d eat it if I was starving, I guess.” He tapped his chin. “Wonder if I can digest it properly…”

“What else do deer even eat?” Edelgard wondered aloud.

“Leaves… bark… uh, berries? Not sure.” Claude poked at the clump of dirt and roots he had torn up. “Oooh, hey El, lookit this!”

Claude tugged free a worm, dangling it in front of her face.

“Oh, gross! Get that out of my face, Claude!”

Claude tilted his head, flashing her an annoyingly smug smirk. “Come on, I tried grass. Doesn’t this look tasty?” He jiggled the squirming worm in front of her eyes.

“It does  _ not! _ I am  _ not _ eating a bug!”

“C’mon, the early bird gets the worm!”

She slapped his hand, the worm flying off into the distant grass.

“Rude. I bet  _ Dimitri _ would’ve tried it if I asked him.” He leaned back and directed a bright smile at Dimitri. “Right, Dimitri?”

“Um, I will pass on that…”

“You’re both no fun, you know that?” Claude flopped onto the grass, rolling over and onto his back. “Sticks in the mud, both of you!” He gave a long stretch, both with his arms and with all four legs, stretching them into the air. “Am I the only one in this world cursed with curiosity? You’ll never learn the ins and outs of your new bodies if you don’t test things.”

“Claude, it’s not a matter of whether I  _ can _ eat bugs or not. It’s a matter of  _ won’t.” _

“Boooooring. Next you’re going to tell me you won’t even consider trying raw meat.”

Edelgard felt her eyebrows hit her forehead. “I am not eating raw meat, Claude!”

He gave her an innocent look. Considering Claude was  _ never _ innocent, she didn’t know why he even bothered. “But eagles eat raw meat. Carrion too!”

“I am not going to eat  _ rotting  _ meat!”

Claude pursed his lips, rolling back onto his stomach. “Guess you’re just too  _ chicken _ to try it.”

“Claude.”

Claude’s eyes went wide. He threw out his hands in front of him.  _ As if that would protect him. _ “Hey now, let’s not be hasty here— BAH!”

Edelgard smacked a wing down where Claude had been sitting. He shot up and away before she could hit him, like— well, like a startled deer. He darted to crouch behind Dimitri. Not that Dimitri could fully hide him. His antlers peeked out above Dimitri’s head.

“Let’s not fight…” Dimitri began.

“We aren’t fighting. I am just giving Claude what he deserves.” Her wings unfurled behind her.

“Well I for one think Claude deserves hugs, not the wings of death!” Claude shouted from behind Dimitri.

“Where else am I supposed to try raw meat, hm Claude? All I see out here is a deer.”

“No deer here! Just this innocent, cute, adorable lion!” Claude reached from behind Dimitri and squished his cheeks together. “See? He’s adorable!”

Dimitri’s expression pinched. “Please stop.”

“Am I interrupting something?” Byleth asked.

“Not at all,” Edelgard immediately replied, sitting up straight and relaxing her wings. She brushed some errant grass strands from her legs.

Byleth dropped a few weapons on the ground. “We will try weapon training today.”

Edelgard felt eager at the prospect. “It will be good to confirm we can still fight without lopping off our new limbs.”

Byleth nodded. “Indeed. Do a lap for warm-up first— same as last time.” She considered Claude for a moment. “Have you tried carrying someone on your back?”

Claude rubbed the back of his neck. “Not yet. No idea how much weight I can carry.” El felt a flash of amusement as she realized both she and Dimitri had carried him, but he had yet to carry either of them.

“The three of you are to remain within eyesight of each other. Help each other out. Teamwork is a vital skill.” Byleth gave Edelgard a long look. She held her straight posture under Byleth’s analyzing eye. “Claude. Try carrying Edelgard through the forest. Do not strain yourself though. This is a warm-up.”

Claude gave a two-fingered salute. “You got it, Teach!” He turned to Edelgard. “Now how the hell is this going to work.”

She considered his body. Claude was average in height for a male. Despite having his lower half entirely replaced, he was still the same exact height as before. She was no expert in deer, but she had seen enough to know he wasn’t very big for a deer. Compared to a horse, he was tiny.

Claude’s average size aside, she herself was very short. She wasn’t so insecure as to be unable to admit that. If it weren’t for the added weight of her wings, she wouldn’t be worried about Claude’s back holding her weight at all.

Claude also sized her up, his eyes stalling at her talons. “Welp, let’s get this out of the way. Want me to… sit down?” He twisted a bit to look at his back. “I’m not exactly wearing a saddle or anything…”

“Here, allow me,” Dimitri offered, gently lifting her and placing her onto Claude’s back.

It was… odd, to say the least. Unlike Dimitri, she didn’t have much experience in riding. She knew the basics of course, and could ride when necessary, but she was by no means skilled. She had also never ridden bareback as she was now. She hung her talons awkwardly on either side of Claude, having no sturup to sit in.

“You’re heavier than I thought you’d be,” Claude grunted. “Someone needs to lay off on the sweets.”

She tugged on his braid in retaliation. “Maybe if you were a bit stronger, you wouldn’t have difficulty carrying someone so small.”

“Just because you’re freakishly strong doesn’t mean I’m weak…” He reached behind his back, tugging her a bit closer up his back. “Not sure I can manage the whole way, but I should be fine for a while.” He turned around to smirk at her. “It’ll still be much faster than you running on your own. We’d be here all day in that case.”

For that comment she smacked the back of his head.

“Perhaps we could take turns?” Dimitri offered. “I’m still getting used to running on all fours, but I won’t have any problems holding her weight.”

Claude nodded. He gave an experimental hop forward. Edelgard hissed at the unexpected movement, clutching his shoulders to stay steady on his back. Her wings spread wide behind her by instinct, trying to balance her even though she wasn’t falling.

Claude tilted his head, turning to look at her. “Oh, that’s better. Keep your wings spread out like that.” She nodded, keeping her weight distributed out. He trotted towards the forest, and for a moment she thought perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad. Then he began bounding into a hopping gait.

“Claude!” She wrapped her arms around his waist to steady herself, only somewhat successful. “Can you not move smoothly?”

He grumbled something under his breath, dropping into a slower, awkward canter. He stumbled, nearly dropping to the ground as he spread out all four legs to keep himself upright, his arms spread out for balance. Trying again, he managed to plod forward at a pace barely faster than a light jog.

Dimitri kept up with them easily, giving them worried looks all the while.

“Who’s the slow one now?” she snipped at Claude. 

“Well I  _ could _ be going much faster if you would just hold on better.”

She readjusted herself slightly. “Fine. Try it now.”

He shot forward, hopping more than running. He  _ had _ to be trying to buck her off on purpose. Her talons scrabbled uselessly as she was unable to get a hold on anything without clawing into Claude’s skin. She only managed to stay on his back through squeezing his waist and pressing her knees into his sides. Unfortunately, while doing so made it possible for her to hang on, she was forced to grip very, very tightly. Claude stumbled to a halting stop just as they hit the edge of the tree line.

“Tight!” He wheezed. “Too tight!”

She immediately let up on her hold. “You need a saddle. Or a bridle. Or  _ something.” _

“Well, we’ve got none of that.”

“Can’t you run smoother? Like a horse?”

Claude threw up his hands. “Hell if I know! I can only run if I’m not thinking about it too hard. It’s all instinct still. And when we get into the forest, it’s only going to be more bumpy from then on. No way an actual horse could make it through.”

She sighed. “Just… try running at half speed, then. We’ll see from there.”

Claude didn’t go ‘slower’ exactly. Instead he started running in small bursts, making sure she was steady after each bout. A few hops forward, falling into a light canter, then repeat. Hopping over fallen logs or large rocks had him stopping completely afterwards, which helped. Each large jump he made had her full weight slamming down onto his back. She was sure his back was becoming just as sore as her rear.

Dimitri peppered in a suggestion about trying to ‘move with’ Claude as he jumped. His theory being that, when on a horse, it helped for the rider to match the rhythm of the horse’s movements. Had she a saddle or normal feet, the advice might not have been entirely useless. Or if Claude  _ had _ a rhythm. His chaotic hops made no predictable pattern.

Still, they made progress until a new roadblock appeared. The forest thickened considerably, the terrain becoming even rougher.

“Ow!” 

Claude skidded to a stop at her noise of pain. He turned his head just enough to look at her.

She wrapped her wings closer to her body. “My wing struck a branch.” It had been a thick branch too— her wing stung.

He nodded, his eyes darting to the myriad of low branches ahead. Claude gave a single hop forward before choking off a yelp. His front legs almost collapsed under him as he overextended his jump, forcing him to give a few awkward half-hops to keep himself upright. “Gah! I can’t balance with all of your weight in the same spot. Spread out your wings.”

From there on it was a game of push and pull. She would try to position her wings in a way that would keep them from smacking into branches. Inevitably her wing would smack into a branch, forcing her to move them, and thus throwing Claude off balance. 

She lowered her wings below the branches, but this meant they were spread out wider and struck the more painful tree trunks. She tried curving them lower to the ground, only to strike them on rocks as Claude bounded uphill. She tried folding them in front of Claude, curling far enough around him that he wouldn’t run into her wings. It worked for a minute, until Claude tripped over a root her wings obscured from his sight. She tried holding them behind her in as straight of a line as she could manage, but that was just as bad for Claude’s balance as folding them on her back. She tried curling them around Claude’s back legs, lower to the ground but not so low as to hit the ground. This worked until Claude had to make a bigger jump than usual and he kicked her wing with his sharp hooves. 

At the last injury to her wing, she gave up and folded them onto her back. Claude hissed, but managed to recover his balance at her shift before he tripped. His hops slowed to a snail’s pace, his back beginning to quiver.

To add insult to injury, she still managed to bash her wing’s elbow joint on an overhead branch.

Just as they entered a small clearing, Edelgard couldn’t take it any longer. “I’m done!” she shouted. “Claude, stop!”

He came to a stop at her command. “Yeah…  _ huff… _ ‘m done too…”

Instead of giving her a chance to dismount, his legs folded underneath him. She squawked as they both slumped to the ground.

“Byleth said not to push it,” Dimitri scolded Claude.

Claude groaned into the grass.

She stood up, wincing at the soreness of her rear and her wings. Despite only riding for ten minutes at the longest, she was covered in bruises from the hops and leaps Claude was  _ oh so _ fond of. Even with a saddle and without her wings, she doubted it would have been a pleasant ride.

“‘Mitri, carry meeee…” Claude whined into the grass. Edelgard snorted, imagining Dimitri slinging Claude over his shoulders like a fresh-caught deer.

“We won’t make this lap in any good time,” Dimitri sighed. “Hopefully Byleth won’t be mad.” Edelgard’s stomach sank at that. She had hoped to impress Byleth, but so far today… 

Edelgard followed Claude’s example and slumped onto the ground. She was sore and she hadn’t even done any of the running. Taking a page out of Claude’s book, she laid flat on her stomach against the grass, her face pressed into the dirt. “It’s just a short break, Dimitri,” she muffled through the ground.

“Very well.”

Claude grunted, then sighed. “You’re the best…” Glancing up from her dirt pillow, she saw Dimitri running careful hands down Claude’s deer-back, massaging as best as he could.  _ Kneading _ into his back, she realized, lightly back and forth like a cat might.

She flopped her face back into the grass, content to listen to Dimitri’s soft purrs.

After a short while, over the sound of Dimitri’s purrs, she faintly heard Claude’s hooves clopping softly against the earth. She decided to ignore him for a moment longer, planning to wring out every second from this small break.

“Um.” Dimitri’s purrs fell silent.

She peeked an eye over at him, frowning. He still had a hand on Claude’s back, and Claude himself was still slumped face first into the grass. Dimitri was staring at something behind Edelgard.

She frowned. Claude’s hooves clopped behind her, then his warm fur settled against her. Except, she was looking at Claude, and he was in front of her.

Tensing, she very carefully lifted her head, turning to look behind her. She blinked, not fully believing what she was seeing.

A decent sized deer lay curled up beside her. Glancing beyond that, she spotted a small herd of deer meandering into the grove. Two adult deer and three fawns. Five fawns total, she corrected to herself as she saw two more darting about together in the undergrowth.

“Claude,” Dimitri whispered, “um…”

“Mmph?” Claude lifted his head. After a few blinks, he looked as flabbergasted at the scene as she felt. “Huh?”

“You didn’t tell us you invited your family over,” Edelgard drawled.

A small fawn bounced over to Dimitri, nosing its face into his bewildered hands. Dimitri, shock still on his face, obliged the brave fawn and pet down its snout. The fawn, apparently having no fear for either the human or lion parts of Dimitri, clambered into his lap and curled up.

“Claude, can you talk to deer?” Dimitri asked, the idea something she expected more from Claude.

Claude shot a glare at the little fawn. Slowly, he stood. He shook his back, wincing. Claude leveled a flat look at him. “Well I dunno Dimitri, can you talk to lions? Of course not.”

Dimitri shrugged, still petting the small fawn. “I have never met a lion, so I cannot say for certain. Have you tried?”

Claude’s expression clouded with reluctant curiosity. He took a few hesitant steps away from Dimitri and towards the herd.

A large doe plodded over to Claude, sniffing him. The size difference was surprising. Glancing around, she realized he was smaller than the adult deer in the clearing. Due to his human torso, he was taller in height than the deer, but proportionally he was just barely smaller than the smallest deer. He was much bigger than the fawns, at least. She wasn’t sure if his pride would survive being smaller than a fawn.

“Hey there, uh, deer friend. How’s… the weather? Find any good leaves around these parts?”

If the doe understood him, she gave no sign. The deer made a low grunt followed by a snort, sniffing at Claude’s shirt. Leaning down further, the large doe nosed at the exposed part of his deer chest, sniffing between his forelegs. Claude met Edelgard’s gaze with a bewildered look, completely frozen in place as the doe sniffed him over. His expression twiched into something half uncertain and half confused. His ears and neck began to lower, his eyes flickering between the deer and the ground.

Coming to some sort of decision, the doe pulled back. She roughly bumped her head into Claude’s torso. At Claude’s wince, the bigger doe raised a hoof and placed it along Claude’s deer back. He grunted in pain, slowly sinking to the ground as the deer put down pressure. As his belly hit the ground, the deer removed her hoof. She circled around Claude twice, keen animal eyes looking for something only the deer knew. Coming to stand back in front of Claude, her examination finished, the deer raised her hoof again. This time, she pressed down on Claude’s shoulder, forcing his human half down and onto the ground. His chin met the dirt. Claude’s ears pressed downwards, his tail tucked between his legs.

Edelgard was sure Claude could have fought back, but he sunk into the submissive position without a fight. The big deer still stood at her full height, towering over Claude. Edelgard couldn’t help but think the doe looked smug as she forced Claude to grovel.

“Well this is weird.” There was something off in Claude’s whisper. He sounded oddly subdued. Not quite afraid, more so… cowed?

“Making sure you aren’t a threat, maybe?” Edelgard wondered aloud. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” he continued to whisper. “Just… not sure what she’s doing.” He looked very small the way he was prostrated before the big doe.

“Asserting dominance, if I had to guess.” Dimitri was staring very intently at the big doe. He wasn’t tense, but he wasn’t relaxed either. “I saw a mother deer do such to a fawn once before on a hunt. How odd. She must be paying more attention to your white spots than your antlers. Usually a herd of doe drive away older bucks unless it is mating season.”

“What, does she think I’m a fawn or something? I’m a bit big for that.” Claude sighed. His face flickered with disgust. “Wait, hold on, when’s a deer’s mating season?” His whisper took on a note of panic. “If this is some weird mating ritual, I’m abandoning you both and running for the hills.”

“Not until fall.”

“Thank the Gods.”

“It’s usually the males that initiate anyways,” Edelgard stated one of the few things she knew about deer.

“Guys, when fall comes, if I start wanting to bang a deer, I give both of you permission to kill me.”

The doe gave a grunt, softer than the one she gave earlier. Claude made an odd squeak in reply. His eyes flew wide. He cleared his throat. “Well that was weird!” he nervously whispered. 

A second smaller doe joined the first one, sniffing him just like the first had.

He gave a strained laugh. “Future Duke of Riegan, bowing to some random deer in the woods. What is my life.”

“Claude, are you sure you’re okay with—”

“I’m peachy!” he replied, his voice cracking.

Finally the big doe seemed to have her fill of standing triumphantly over Claude. She settled down at Claude’s side, nudging his face with her own.

“Now what…?” Claude gave a shaky exhale, carefully lifting his head, followed by his torso when the deer made no move to reprimand him. He rubbed a hand along his shoulders, keeping a wary eye on the doe. His ears slowly tilted back up, but his tail remained tucked between his legs.

The big doe huffed and licked his face.

Claude jolted and sputtered, squeezing his eyes shut.

The deer licked a long streak down his face and under his chin. Edelgard put a hand to her mouth to hide her amusement at the myriad of uncomfortable expressions Claude cycled through. 

“Why… does everything… want to lick me…” Claude’s voice was long suffering as the deer continued to lick his neck. The second deer started licking at his flank.

Edelgard raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me? What else has been licking you? Do I want to know?”

“I-it was an accident…” Dimitri stuttered.

The big doe moved down to his torso, nosing at the fabric of his shirt. “H-hey now! Not— ah!” Despite his cry, Claude didn’t stop the deer from rucking up his shirt. His hands hovered by the doe’s face. His expression pinched as the deer nosed his stomach. He jerked back, only to freeze stock-still at the doe’s grunt. Just like before, he squeaked back. Edelgard was certain the sound had to be an involuntary response on his part. Then he began squirming in earnest as the deer licked his stomach. “Sh-shit! Th-a-at tick— tick— ahh, haaa, hah! Ahah! Haha!” He slapped both hands over his mouth, trying to muffle his laughter as he squirmed. “No no nooooo! Ah, hahaha!”

To Claude’s visible relief, the doe pulled her head away a few moments later. He braced his hands on the grass and slumped over, catching his breath. The deer began licking stripes down Claude’s furred chest and back. He still squirmed with each stroke, but not as badly as before. The smaller doe moved up his flank to his side.

“Ticklish, hmmmm?” She filed that information away for later.

Claude shot her a glare that was entirely ineffective, what with the two deer still mothering him. 

Edelgard was startled from her observations by a tug at her hair. Glancing down, she looked at the last adult doe in the clearing, the one that had laid down beside her. The doe licked at her hand, so she began patting the offered snout.

She noticed Dimitri had a particular look on his face. His eyes were focused on Claude and the deer. Something warring between jealousy, uncertainty, and reluctance, if she read him right. He bit his lip, his tail lashing behind him.

“Are you jealous, Dimitri?” she teased.

Dimitri’s eyes darted to her. “What? Of course not. No. Of what? Of course not.”

“You’re free to take this bath in my place, Dimitri,” Claude deadpanned. The doe were still ‘cleaning’ his back.

“That’s not it,” Dimitri grumbled.

Claude’s annoyed expression shifted to something more mischievous. “Oh? Would you prefer to be  _ giving _ me the bath, then?”

Dimitri’s face reddened. “N-no!” he protested, though the excited flick of his tail said otherwise. “I— I just… don’t like the way she smells.”

“What, like deer? Hate to break it to you, but I kinda smell like deer too.” Claude took a quick sniff. “Ugh, you’re right, she’s super musky. And now so am I. Gross.”

Dimitri looked at the grass. “No. Ah… her scent, I mean.”

Edelgard tilted her head. “You can detect specific scents?”

Dimitri reluctantly nodded. “Somewhat. I’m still adjusting to the sense. It is… difficult to describe.”

Dimitri didn’t get any further chance to explain as twin fawns bounded over to him, enticed by the movement of his tail. The fawn still sitting in his lap perked up. Dimitri’s tail twitched, causing the two fawns to hop backwards in a way that was very reminiscent of Claude’s hops. As soon as his tail stopped again, the little fawns were nosing closer.

A fourth and fifth fawn darted into the clearing, chasing each other. The part of Edelgard that adored cute things was in heaven. The two little fawns gathered around Dimitri decided he was a good place to take a nap, settling down on him beside the one already on his lap.

Birds twittered in the trees. Soft sunlight, not too cold but not too hot, streamed over the grove. A refreshing breeze tugged at her hair. The sky was clear aside from a few fluffy white clouds.

So this was peace.

“My hair too?! Seriously?” The big doe had moved on to Claude’s hair, it seemed.

Very peaceful.

“Do you think Byleth will be upset at us for taking so long?” Dimitri asked, breaking the calm silence. “I am unable to get up.” He gestured to his lap full of baby deer. Two were curled up, the third standing on two legs, its front legs on Dimitri’s chest to get the height it needed to sniff Dimitri’s face.

Claude glanced at the two doe still licking at him. “Yeah, not sure they’re going to let me leave any time soon.” The smaller doe leaned up and licked at his ear. “Gah!”

She couldn’t stop a soft smile. “You don’t sound very grateful to your new adoptive family, Claude.”

Claude’s look was as dry as a desert. “If they’re my new family,  _ you’re _ stuck with them too.”

“Oof!” Dimitri toppled over, three fawns sniffing at his face. “They must be related to you Claude, what with how curious they are.” He gave a delighted laugh as one of the fawns licked his forehead.

The doe that Edelgard was idly petting had enough of her ignoring it, shoving a wet nose into her cheek. She sputtered in surprise.

Claude shot her a smug look, dampened somewhat by the doe lapping at the base of his ear.

She sighed. “We should continue our run, as reluctant as I am to cut this short.”

“I’m not,” Claude shot back. “I’m ready to go at any time.”

Edelgard stretched out her wings, wincing at the pain from her scrapes and bruises. The fawns on Dimitri’s chest all startled and scattered. They ran in different directions, before halting and looking at her curiously. One toppled over after stopping too quickly. Again she was reminded of Claude’s early days when he had been unsteady on his legs. She shot Dimitri an apologetic look.

Brushing dirt and fur off his pants, Dimitri stood and stretched. A large yawn cracked his jaw.

“How tired are you feeling?”

Dimitri replied with an automatic “not tired at all.”

“Dimitri.” She gave him a flat stare.

He winced. “Ah. Yes, right. Habit. I’m…” he paused, seeming to actually think about it. “Slightly drowsy, but nothing alarming.”

“A shame we can’t nap here,” Claude murmured. “This little grove is a perfect nap-spot.”

“And the deer?” Edelgard raised an eyebrow, smirking.

“You two seem pretty well smitten. And hey, deer are pretty great when they aren’t _licking me.”_ He leveled a baleful scowl at the two deer still grooming him. The big doe paused mid-lick to give Claude the deer-equivalent of a withering look, dropping her ears in what Edelgard recognized as a warning. He immediately broke eye contact and lowered his head to look at the ground, his glare shattering into an unnerved grimace.

“We should come back here sometime…” Dimitri suggested, completely missing Claude’s continued humiliation via deer.

Claude nodded. “Y-yeah, absolutely.” He cleared his throat as he forced a grin. “Just so long as I don’t have to carry El next time.”

“Agreed.” Edelgard refused to let Claude carry her again.

“My turn to carry you, it seems.” Dimitri approached her, bending down and settling comfortably on all fours. “I am uncertain how well this will work, but I’ll certainly be able to carry your weight.”

“Can’t be worse than Claude,” she muttered. Judging by the flick of Claude’s ears, he heard her. Good.

Sitting on Dimitri’s back was different. At least with Claude she had the vague reference of a horse. The biggest difference was how low to the ground Dimitri was. She couldn’t dangle her talons down his sides like she had with Claude. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing herself as flat against his back as she could. Her wings, thankfully, could press flat without messing with his balance. She was forced to wrap her legs around his torso as best she could. Already she could tell her thighs would be getting a nice work out.

“Settled?” Dimitri asked.

“As I ever will be. You?”

“So long as you can hold on, I see no issue.” He shifted, half-choking as he inhaled. Before she could ask him about it, he snatched her hand. After a split moment of hesitation, he nuzzled her hand. Then very quickly he ran his tongue over the back of her hand, flipping it to lick down the front. It was the hand the deer had licked, she noted through her surprise. “Sorry,” he hissed. She allowed him to get away with it without teasing him, just this once. For his sake, she held back on showing any disgust.

She really hoped Dimitri was not going to make a habit of  _ licking. _

They both turned to Claude, who carefully picked himself up from between the two deer. The big doe flicked an ear and grunted. He flinched mid-step, letting out another unwilling squeak. He cleared his throat, wincing as his eyes met Edelgard’s. Slowly he resumed tip-toeing away. The deer let him leave without a fight. The big doe didn’t roll her eyes, but Edelgard got the sense that she would have if it was a thing deer did. 

Claude padded over to them, heaving a sigh of relief. “Phew!” His tail swished out. “Let’s  _ not _ do that again! Come on, let’s get out of her line of sight before she tries to call me back over.”

Edelgard snickered as Claude ducked past them and into the treeline. “Are you saying you would follow her order?” she called after him.

A shudder ran through Dimitri as Claude passed. “El, are you fine if I stand for a moment?” There was something off in his voice. Strained.

“Did you  _ see _ how she looked at me?!” Claude called back. “One of us has self-preservation!” 

She adjusted her hold. “Go ahead Dimitri.”

He stood, tense as a rod. She clung to his back easily. His muscles twitch, as if he was holding back. With what she realized were overly careful strides, he got closer to Claude. The way he walked reminded Edelgard of a predator approaching unsuspecting prey. She frowned.

Claude met her eyes from where she peeked over Dimitri’s shoulder. “Hah, you look so tiny like that. You just,” he put both of his hands parallel and slapped them together, “like a piece of paper between Dimitri and your wings. Makes it look like Dimitri’s the one with wings now. Now who’s th— GAH!”

Dimitri licked Claude’s face. 

Then he shoved Claude’s head into his shoulder, nuzzling against Claude’s neck. A low growl thundered from his throat. Claude gave a muffled grunt into Dimitri’s mane, which turned into a muffled yelp as Dimitri licked Claude’s ear. Forcefully rubbing Claude’s face against his mane one last time, Dimitri let Claude go. Claude was wide-eyed, blinking rapidly.

“I don’t like their smell,” Dimitri growled as an explanation. She couldn’t see his face, but he sounded murderous.

“Uhh?”

“I thought you enjoyed the company of the deer…?” She tightened her hand around his shoulder. He felt like a spring ready to burst. “You looked so enamoured with the fawns.”

Dimitri took a few deep breaths. “I— did.” A few more deep breaths. She could hear his teeth grinding. “But I can’t  **stand** the smell of them  ** _claiming you.”_ ** He clenched his fists together, low rumble building in his chest. “They can’t  _ have you. _ You belong  _ to us.” _ Dimitri punctuated this by grabbing Claude by the collar of his shirt and frantically licking a streak down his throat.

“Ack! Your— tongue— is— sandpaper!  _ Stop!” _ Claude shouted as he tried to escape Dimitri’s hold. He pushed against Dimitri’s chest, but Dimitri was obviously the stronger of the two. “Let me— hnnnn,  _ gross— _ let me go!” Dimitri didn’t seem to hear him.

“Dimitri!” She snagged one of his ears and yanked. “That’s enough!” She managed to pull him off Claude’s throat. Claude hopped backwards as soon as he was free. A lot like the fawns had earlier, she noted. Dimitri took a single step towards Claude, and she dug her talons into his sides. Not enough to draw blood, but it was enough to halt him.

Dimitri growled, tapering off into a whine. He heaved a few breaths. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Just wanted—  _ needed— _ to replace that smell. I’m sorry.”

Claude eyed him. “I don’t  _ belong _ to anyone, Dimitri. You don’t own me.”

Dimitri nodded frantically. “You’re right— I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I… it’s hard to explain. I’m sorry.”

“Instincts?” Edelgard assumed.

Dimitri’s shoulders drooped. “Yes. I am  _ so _ sorry.” He buried his face in his hands.

“You don’t  _ own _ me, Dimitri,” Claude repeated, his face a blank mask. “I need you to understand that.”

“That wasn’t what I meant.”

“I’ll go back to those deer right now if I want to.”

“N-no! I mean… I’m sorry I felt jealous, I don’t know what came over me.” Dimitri took a moment to collect himself, shaking his head. “You are free to do so if you wish. Even if you…” He swallowed, shaking his head again. “That’s not what I meant. When I said you belong to us, I did not mean we own you. I meant…” Dimitri fidgeted. “You belong  _ with  _ us. We belong to you too, just as much as you to us.” He tilted his head towards Edelgard. “Right?”

Edelgard patted his head. “Another instinct?” 

“Belong…  _ with  _ you…” Claude had a far-off look.

“This is not an instinct. Ahem, or rather, not  _ just _ an instinct. We are family, yes? That’s what you said, Claude. Bound beyond the binds of blood… right? So you belong with us. That deer has no  _ right  _ to try and claim you as her own. You already have a place you belong.”

“Claude?” Edelgard spoke up. “Are you alright?”

“That’s… ah. Yeah. I’m good.” He scratched at the back of his neck, looking away. One of his softer smiles tugged at his lips. “When you put it that way, I get you. Somewhere to belong, huh…” His smile leveled out into something more regular. “Ask next time though, alright? If I ask you to stop, you need to stop. I  _ need _ to be able to trust that you’ll listen to me.”

“I would not have hurt you.”

Claude shook his head. “Don’t care about that. If I tell you to stop, you stop.”

Dimitri tilted his face to the ground. “That’s more than fair. I’m sor—”

“Not asking for an apology.”

“I’ll… do better?”

“Was that a question?”

“I will do better in the future. I promise you.”

“There we go.” 

“El,” Dimitri turned his head as far as he could to see her out of the corner of his eye, “thank you as well. I’m sorry I licked your hand.”

She patted his head again. “Like Claude said, ask next time. Though, unlike Claude, if I want you to stop and you don’t, I’m tossing your ass into the pond.”

Dimitri winced. “That is fair. I would deserve it.”

Claude groaned. “See, this is why I can’t poison you in retaliation. You beat yourself up more than I ever could.”

Claude took a step towards them. “Ah— wait!” Dimitri cried.

Claude froze. “What?”

Edelgard noticed red creeping up Dimitri’s neck. “I, um… perhaps… you should keep your distance.”

“Dimitri,” Edelgard sighed, “if this is a punishment towards yourself—”

“No, um… It’s just… Claude, your entire back smells like…” Dimitri’s fists clenched. “I am working on my restraint but…”

“Got it,” Claude softly replied. “Would a dip in the river help?”

“I am uncertain. In… the spirit of full disclosure… I’d really, really rather… replace it…”

“By licking my fur?” Claude deadpanned.

Dimitri brought his hands to his face. Edelgard could feel the heat of his blush. Still, he nodded.

“Haven’t I been licked enough for one day? For my entire life? Ah, to hell with it. Fine. After our lesson.”

“Really?!” Dimitri lit up, his tail wagging for a moment before he winced. He groaned. “I wish I was not so excited about that.”

“With that settled,” Edelgard said, “perhaps we should get going before Byleth gets worried.”

“We still have 3/4th of the lap to do,” Claude groaned.

Dimitri settled back down onto all fours. “Let us hope Dimitri is faster than you, then.”

Claude muttered something she didn’t hear.

Dimitri began at a fast clip,  _ far _ smoother than her ride with Claude had been. In part it was because she was pressed flat to his back— between both of their strengths, she didn’t jostle the same way as on Claude’s back. Combined with her wings able to fold up, she wasn’t much of a burden on Dimitri’s back at all. Claude kept a small lead ahead of them, but the two runners were able to go nearly at their fastest.

Finishing the lap took less time than she thought it would. They peeled out of the forest finally. Edelgard dismounted from Dimitri. He panted heavily, but seemed to enjoy the exertion. Claude, on the other hand, was not out of breath at all.

“Welcome back,” Byleth greeted them. “Report?”

“El is heavy as fuck,” Claude immediately replied.

“Claude is a baby,” she added.

Dimitri sighed. “I must work on my restraint.”

Claude padded up behind Dimitri and patted his shoulder. “You’re trying, and it’s very cute.”

Dimitri tensed. “Claude…”

Claude hissed. “Right, sorry.” He backed up and shot Dimitri two thumbs up. “Hey, good job! Making progress.”

Byleth tilted her head.

Dimitri’s face bloomed into red. “I’d rather not talk about it.”

“Okay.” Byleth looked at Claude. “So I assume carrying Edelgard is a no.”

Claude gave a pained grin. “My back is killing me, and El  _ wants _ to kill me.”

“I clipped my wings on the entire forest,” El agreed, “and will be saddle sore for a week.”

“I had no issues carrying her,” Dimitri added. “She’s not very heavy or big, so it was easy to almost forget she was on my back.”

_ “Not heavy my ass…” _ she heard Claude mutter to himself.

“Understood. Now that the warmup is over…”

All three of them groaned as one.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Training with Byleth went much better than he expected, but by the end of it he was well and truly feeling fatigue tug at his eyes. Not ‘tear up the room’ levels of fatigue— just… drowsy.

Byleth had given them training weapons. He had been so  _ excited _ to finally use a lance again. Then he held it.

The raised padding on his hands made gripping a lance like he used to impossible. The altered shape of his legs made his stance useless at best, detrimental at worst. He had no idea how to settle into a balance when he swung anymore. He couldn’t lean back on his heels, after all. Attempting to do so out of habit had landed him hard on his rear.

El fared even worse than him. Not only were her feet altered beyond recognition, she also had to deal with the counterbalance weight of her wings. Worse, the windup of her swings were limited now. She couldn’t swing the axe too far back or to her side lest she strike her own wings.

Claude had the best results with his choice of weapon, but even he was affected. His stance was impossible to salvage. Having four legs now, whatever stance he was used to was useless.  _ Any  _ traditional stance was useless to Claude now. He would have to learn whatever worked best from scratch and on his own. Still, Claude made do. After a few potshots he regained his bullseye accuracy. His biggest issue was similar to El’s: his body parts kept getting in the way of his weapon. Dimitri hadn’t been watching when Claude snapped his string against his antler, but he had heard the surprised yelp. Worse was when Claude had snapped his bowstring against his ear— three times. Byleth gave him a smaller bow with a shorter draw length, much to Claude’s bruised pride. 

Claude at least had done decently— until he tried to shoot while moving. Then he tripped and fell on his face. That, at least, was familiar.

_ Progress. _ He had to look at the positive side— they were making progress. Even if it didn’t feel like it. At least they now knew where their skills lie. They had to start somewhere. This was their baseline.

They stumbled back to the monastery exhausted, dirty, and sore.

_ Dimitri _ had wanted to take Claude and El to the infirmary. Unfortunately, he had been outvoted. They went to the bathhouse instead. As the only one without injury, he didn’t feel right pushing the subject. Plus, he promised to be less… ‘pushy’. He had also hoped the bathhouse would wash away the scent of  _ other _ deer clinging to Claude.

Unfortunately, it didn’t.

“—and this one is for cleaning out cuts. Here’s cream for sore muscles— I’ll be using that, thank you very much.” Claude shut the drawer he had been rummaging through. On his desk sat an impressive pile of medical supplies. “This one works great for bruises. And this is a tonic you can take for pain, if you need it. It’ll make you a bit sleepy though. Aaaand some bandages. I think that’s everything.”

“Why is it we are not going to the infirmary, again?”

Claude rolled his eyes at Dimitri. “I have everything we need. We’ve only got cuts and scrapes. Don’t want Byleth getting in trouble for us getting a few tiny injuries.”

“And because Claude is paranoid.”

“Who  _ knows _ what Manuela gives her patients?! What, am I just supposed to trust that?”

“Yes Claude, that’s why it’s called  _ faith _ magic. It’s about faith.”

“Pff, we all know I’ve got none of that.”

El gave Dimitri an exhausted look. “How is it that  _ he _ was the first of us to cast a heal spell earlier?”

“Besides,” Claude continued as though El hadn’t spoken, “Manuela admitted she has no idea how she’s supposed to heal us in our altered bodies. She’d probably just give us traditional medicine anyways. Mine’s better than whatever she’s got.” El hissed as Claude dabbed a solution onto an open scrape. 

Dimitri sat on the bed with his back against the wall, knees curled into his chest. His nose was buried into a pillow. He kept catching whiffs of _ those deer _ all over Claude. It niggled at the back of his mind, hissing at him to  _ fix _ it, to replace the scent with his own.

Today he learned that saliva-based scent did not come off with water alone. Much to his torment.

He  _ hated  _ these accursed instincts. He hadn’t minded the deer (much) when they were in the clearing. In fact, he adored the little fawns that had settled in his lap. Watching the large doe groom Claude had been… unpleasant, certainly. He was sure it had been far more unpleasant for Claude. It had sparked embers of jealousy and protectiveness in him, and even some possessiveness that he wished he didn’t have. But he  _ knew _ it was just a deer. He didn’t need to compete for Claude, and he  _ especially _ didn’t need to compete for him with an  _ animal. _

All of his reason and logic flew out of his head when he got close enough to smell Claude.

El had been easy to fix. It was just her hand. Easy to just… fix. He hadn’t intended to lick her hand, he’d just done what felt right. But Claude was  _ drenched _ in the scent. He had thought that maybe if he just got rid of a little of it, just put a little bit of his scent over the deer’s— he thought that would be enough. It almost had been, too. But the more  _ wrongness _ he smelled over Claude, the angrier he got, and the more he wanted to replace that stench until it wore away his restraint completely.

Claude had tried to pull away from him, and he hadn’t allowed it. Claude told him to stop, and he hadn’t. He  _ couldn’t. _ He  _ needed _ to— 

No. He  _ could  _ have. He just really, really hadn’t wanted to. For Claude, and for El as well, he needed to make the effort. 

It was much easier to make the effort from a distance.

What a mess he was. Couldn’t be out of sight of Claude and El without panicking. But he couldn’t be within a five-foot radius of Claude without losing it.

“That should do it.” Claude’s voice drew Dimitri back to the present. 

El shifted her wings a bit. “Mm, thank you. That bruise cream is doing wonders.”

Claude winked. “Thanks! It’s my own recipe.”

They both turned to look at him. “How are you holding up?” El asked.

“I am fine.”

Claude gave him a halfway wry grin. “That scent thing is still bothering you, isn’t it.”

Dimitri groaned into his pillow. He burned with shame.

“While the idea of a tongue bath after  _ just _ getting back from the bathhouse is grating—” Claude flopped onto the bed— “I’ll make the sacrifice. This time.”

Dimitri pressed the pillow further against his nose. “So I can?” 

“Only if you stop when I tell you to.”

Dimitri bobbed his head.

Claude’s eyes darted to El. “Next time it’s your turn, got it?”

“Next time to be adopted by a deer? Sure, sure.”

“Ugh. You’re the worst. I’m running away to my new deer family. My new deer moms won’t treat me like this.”

“The one that made you bow before her like she was a queen and you a lowly servant?”

“You’re the worst.”

“Love you too.” El rolled her eyes as she sorted through a pile of books on the floor.

Dimitri met Claude’s gaze.  _ Did she notice what she said…? _

Claude settled into a comfortable position on the bed. “Alright, go for it.”

Dimitri tossed the pillow aside, eager to  _ correct. _ The scent of  _ wrong _ stung his nose. The scent of  _ not-Claude _ and  _ not-El _ clung to Claude. It  _ needed _ to be fixed.

Claude stiffened as he began, but quickly relaxed. A purr built in the back of his throat, roaring over the pounding of his embarrassed heartbeat.  _ Claude was his, his,  _ ** _his. _ ** No, no, not  _ his. _ Claude was his own self. Claude could take care of himself. He didn’t belong to anyone, not even to Dimitri. But as he continued to replace that  _ vile, undeserving _ scent, his mind chanted  _ mine, mine,  _ ** _mine._ **

He hadn’t lied to Claude and El earlier, but he hadn’t told the full truth either. Of course he didn’t own Claude or El. Of course not. But his insides screamed at him that they were  _ his, _ that they belonged to  _ him. _ He was ashamed of how deep this new need to  _ possess _ both of them ran through him. He could suppress that screaming need within him. And he had. Until  _ now, _ when another tried to claim  _ his Claude,  _ ** _his_ ** _ Claude, how  _ ** _dare_ ** _ they—  _

“Well?” He heard El say, sounding miles away.

“Not too different from being brushed, honestly,” Claude replied. “Except it’s moist. And makes gross slurping noises.” Dimitri winced, but didn’t stop. Claude hadn’t asked him to stop, so he didn’t. “The sandpaper isn’t so bad on fur, though. It’s… almost comfortable? If I stretch the definition of comfortable.”

Satisfaction overwhelmed his embarrassment as he got into the rhythm of grooming Claude’s fur. Before he knew it, he had claimed all of Claude’s back. He licked the front of Claude’s deer chest, pushing up his shirt to follow the scent of  _ wrong. _

Claude shoved a hand on Dimitri’s face. “No! Stop, no! Not my stomach! Don’t you dare!”

He froze, stopping. He didn’t move. The  _ need _ to erase the  _ wrong _ scent on  _ his _ Claude  _ demanded _ he finish. But Claude told him to stop. So he stopped. A whine came from his throat.

_ “Dimitri.” _

He grit his teeth, grinding them back and forth. It was torturous, but he pulled his head back. 

Claude patted his head. “Good boy.” He winked.

Dimitri huffed, tense as a spring.

Claude seemed to realize he wasn’t done, sighing. “Not my stomach, got it? Anywhere else.”

Dimitri grunted.  _ Need _ hissed under his skin. “But…”

“Dimitri.”

He gave a terse nod. “Not your stomach.”

“Look at you. Learning already. You can keep going.”

Having finished Claude’s lower half (aside from his stomach), Dimitri tugged Claude’s head down. He licked over both ears. Claude yelped, but didn’t tell him to stop. Ears finished, he began licking through Claude’s curls.

“Really? My hair too? You’re nothing if not thorough, I guess.”

A few minutes later and he was done. As a last touch, he rubbed his cheeks over Claude’s face. He refused to miss even an inch. It felt uncomfortable against his whiskers but _oh so right_ to claim Claude.**_ His_** Claude.

_ His his his his his his his his…  _

With a few last parting nuzzles, Dimitri withdrew. “Done.”

“Alright!” His Claude leapt up from the bed, giving a little shake of his hindquarters.

Dimitri felt  _ so much  _ better. He sighed, sinking into the bed. It felt like a physical weight was lifted from his shoulders. He would feel even better if he could remove that  _ disgusting deer’s scent _ on his Claude’s stomach, but… he was fine. This was enough.

But then his eyes drifted to El. She was perusing a book— one he recognized as from her own room. He had left his scent on her hand, and she hadn’t been marked up by the wretched deer like his Claude had been…

She looked up from her book and met his eyes. “Yes?”

He realized he was standing in front of her. His eyes fell to the ground in shame.

His Claude barked a laugh. “Oh, El! Your turn!”

Dimitri scrunched his shoulders up to his ears. “Only if you don’t mind…?”

Disgust turned her lips. She sighed and leveled her expression. “Very well. So long as this does not become a habit.”

His tail swished in excitement. He knocked his head into hers, roughly nuzzling her face. He picked her up and deposited them both on the bed. He wasted no time licking a streak down her cheek.

She winced. “Claude, you weren’t exaggerating about the sandpaper.”

Dimitri tried to curb his enthusiasm, but it was hard. He had both Claude  _ and _ El. They were _ both his. _ He started with her hair, grooming downwards. Hers was harder to do than Claude’s hair. He made sure to only lick on the downward stroke so as to not completely mess up her hair. She would probably need to comb it when he was finished, though.

He did her hands and arms next, lapping at skin that faded into soft feathers. He had enough restraint to stop at her shoulders. He covered her neck, under her chin, and cheeks. He made sure to get her ear-feathers as well.

He paused as his tongue hit the scales of her legs. It was an odd sensation on his tongue. Reluctantly, he decided not to scent her legs.

Last he went to her back. Just as he was about to lick at her feathers he was struck with a nose full of medicine. He jerked back at the sudden strong scent, nearly bashing his head on (or potentially through) the wall.

El cocked her head at him. “Are you alright?”

He wrinkled his nose. He got a bit closer, sniffing carefully this time. The bruise cream and the ointment for her cuts, he realized.  _ Claude’s _ work.

Unexpected satisfaction slammed into him in waves. El had his scent on her, and  _ Claude’s _ too. Of course she shared the faint smell of Claude’s fur on her, the same as she had his fur on her too. But now she was scented with Dimitri and with Claude. Somehow it was so much more  _ complete _ than with only his own scent. El wasn't _his,_ El was _theirs._

He finished by giving more nuzzles with his cheek.

“All done?” His Claude asked, settling on the bed with them.

He nodded, bonking his head into his Claude’s shoulder. He caught the whiff of Claude’s medicine again. His eyes widened. He grabbed his Claude’s shirt and yanked it up.

“Hey!”

Smeared on his stomach was a thin layer of ointment. He looked back up at his Claude for an explanation.

“I was already putting some on my poor abused back. Figured it might cover that smell you hate so much.”

Dimitri’s heart swelled.  _ His Claude was so considerate… _ That little last bit of niggling annoyance in the back of his mind vanished. Saying  _ thank you _ wasn’t enough, couldn’t describe how much the small gesture meant to him.

“Me next?”

His Claude frowned. “Huh?”

“Can you… put some of the ointment on me as well?”

“Wait, did you get hurt? Dimitri, why didn’t you say anything?”

He shook his head. “No… It’s just… I scented you and El. You scented yourself and El. Will you scent me too…?” His face flushed red as he realized his words made no sense outside his head. “That way I’m yours, like how you’re mine.”  _ Saints, _ that was even less comprehensible!

“Uh, we aren’t exchanging marital vows, right?”

“No!” Dimitri flushed even harder. “Not like that! Like… family?” He buried his face in his hands. “I’m so sick of these damned instincts.”

“I think I get it,” their El murmured. “So we ‘belong’ to each other, is that right?”

“Yes! That’s exactly it!”

“Don’t I get to ‘scent’ you as well, Dimitri?”

Dimitri bobbed his head at her. “Yes! Please!” Then he shook his head as he realized how eager he sounded. “Only if you’re comfortable!”

His Claude tossed something over to their El, and pulled out his own bottle of ointment. “Alright, where’s it hurt, ‘Mitri?” He flashed a wink.

He thought about it. “My hands are actually rather sore…”

His Claude frowned, but didn’t hesitate as he began to massage the ointment into the back of Dimitri’s hands. “Why are they sore? From running on them?”

“It’s the claws, I think. They don’t hurt anymore, but the bones in my hands often ache.”

“And you’re only telling us this now?” their El drawled from behind him.

Dimitri winced. “It didn’t occur to me. My apologies.” He didn’t mention the phantom burns he sometimes still felt along his skin. The deep scar tissue from the Tragedy had vanished from his hands after his last stint as a labrat, but they still ached. It was still hard to remember some days that the scars were gone. He still wondered why that damned cultist had even bothered healing the scars. He wondered if they had been healed at all, or if maybe they just  _ looked _ healed now. Dimitri didn’t know, and he wasn’t about to tell anyone.

His eyes fluttered closed. The cool ointment soothed the aches of his hands. The pungent smell of  _ Claude’s medicine _ being used on  _ him—  _ used to mark  _ Dimitri _ as  _ Claude’s—  _ left him weak with a feeling of  _ rightness. _ Claude flipped his hand and began working the stuff into his palms, in and around the raised pads too. Claude also took the opportunity to poke and prod his pads. “What? Have you ever taken the time to squish a cat’s feet? It’s great.”

El’s hands came down on his mane, working something cool and damp into the fur. It smelled light and floral, faint enough to not be overwhelming. He nearly choked at the wave of  _ El, El, El _ that struck his nose. It was the skin lotion she used for herself, he realized. She massaged it under his fur deftly with so much care.

Dimitri couldn’t hear anything over the sound of his purring. He knew they cared about him, but this— it went beyond words. Half of it was his hindbrain shrieking in joy with the new instincts, but the other half was far more recognizable: they did this for him. Both of them indulged his strange new instincts, and then they went further and gave in return.

_ They really did love him. _

“Well Claude, do you want some of this as well?”

“Sure, why not. What was it Dimitri said…?” Claude lowered his voice an octave. “Make me yours.” There was the sound of a light whap followed by Claude’s yelp. “You know, in a family way! Yeesh!” 

Dimitri slumped limply on the bed, his body humming with bone-deep satisfaction. It wasn’t long before El and Claude settled in by his side. He breathed in deeply. The smell of Claude and El and Claude’s ointment and El’s lotion and his own scent mixed in… 

_ His  _ Claude and  _ his _ El… and he was  _ Claude’s _ Dimitri and  _ El’s _ Dimitri… 

“I didn’t realize he could purr this loud…”

He felt Claude’s hand scratch at the underside of his ear. “This really made you happy, huh.”

“I cannot begin to describe it, or explain it…” Dimitri murmured, “but it feels so  _ right. _ Thank you.”

“Take your nap, Dima,” El whispered in his ear. “We’ll be here when you wake.”

“Psh, you say that like you’re not about to take a nap too, El. I see your eyelids drooping.”

“Mmm. It’s been a long day. Nap now, dinner after…”

“And then Hilda’s going to drag me like a fresh-caught carcass to her room to do my hooves. Still not sure if I’m looking forward to that or dreading it.”

“I’m actually looking forward to it. A bit nervous too. I’ve never been to a…”

“Heh, me neither…”

Dimitri drifted off to the sound of their voices.

His dreams were kind and sweet, for once without a hint of nightmare. He had no thoughts of Duscur. There were no whispers of the dead. The grief that coiled in his chest like a jealous dragon for once, just this once, abated.

For the first time in so many years, he felt truly at peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two out of three doe agree: Claude is babey
> 
> A bit of an odd chapter. This went in a very unexpected direction lol. I began the chapter with ‘training w/ Byleth’ and ‘deer in the clearing’ in mind. Everything else just sort of… happened. I’ve been teasing Dimitri’s more possessive side this entire fic, and now it really comes out, as well as his heightened ability to smell. Scent, being the odd sense out between hearing and seeing, was… odd(?) to write. Dimitri’s _really_ trying not to be weird (and failing).
> 
> Not sure if that’s exactly how scent works, as I’m, y’know, probably a human. Tried my best to be roughly accurate though.
> 
> Claude has two new moms, he’s got no say in it. By default, that means El and Dimi have two new moms too. So that makes anywhere from 1 to 6 moms, depending on how it’s counted. Tiana, Deer (1), Deer (2), Sothis, Byleth, Rhea… Shit, when I tagged this as found family, this wasn’t exactly what I meant… 
> 
> Deer facts!  
Deer herd compositions vary depending on the type of deer, but I based this off of white-tail/mule deers, since I’ve lightly been using those as a base for Claude. In this case, you get a few adult female deer together with their fawns. The bucks will stay with female herds during winter, then split off come springtime. Usually you get the oldest doe in a herd to be the alpha deer, which is in charge of leading the herd, the usual shebang, as well as driving away young bucks when they become old enough (usually a year of age).
> 
> Female and male deer both have their own hierarchy ladder. In the case of this fic, the alpha deer was doing what is called ‘striking’ to Claude, basically to make sure he knew his place. The dominant deer will attempt to put down a subordinate/fawn's head or neck with their hoof as a herd hierarchy lesson. Grunting is also another way. Lower grunts, sometimes followed by a snort, basically mean 'I'm boss' in deer language. Softer, low-intensity grunts are used as maternal calls by a mother deer. Fawns, when being called by a mother, respond with what's known as a mew: a high-pitched sound that means either 'I heard you' or 'feed/pay attention to me'. They really do sound like a kitten mew sometimes, which is adorable.
> 
> Female deer will sometimes adopt orphaned fawns (though not always). More often, doe will ‘babysit’ the fawns of injured or missing doe. I was able to find some adorable videos (for research purposes, totally) of deer and their fawns interacting. (“Young Deer in the Yard 2017” is a great video if you want to watch cute deer btw). Deer groom each other a lot, especially as a bonding exercise. Was Alpha-Doe annoyed that her new weird sassy child refused to participate in grooming? You bet
> 
> Google now assumes I am a deer hunter and thus targets hunting ads towards me. I spent way too long researching deer facts! Don't take any of this as gospel- I only have a phd in Google. I don't know why when it comes to Dimitri I'm perfectly happy to substitute whatever the hell I *think* a lion might do, but never research. At least with El I do a fair bit of research into birds/wings. Not that it matters, since this is a fiction piece in a fictional magical setting. /shrug.
> 
> This now ends Deer Facts! Fear the Deer! Love the Deer! Be the Deer!


	17. The average rate of living parents per student in Garreg Mach is 1.037*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Girl's night! (+Claude & Dimitri are invited) Also, nightmare (as is customary) and a pinch of overthinking (it's a favorite pastime)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Disturbing themes/imagery in nightmare scene
> 
> I'm back! Took a little month-long break. Should be back to my regular-irregular schedule! 
> 
> ART~!  
[Lord Trio Chillin' on Rhea's balcony](https://mobile.twitter.com/Shir0_Tamaya/status/1259675117510184961) and [Comic about Deer!Claude tripping](https://mobile.twitter.com/Shir0_Tamaya/status/1259675534386216962) by Shir0 (I'm so sorry I forgot to add these last chapter x_x)
> 
> [Kitty!Dimitri](https://beheeyemite.tumblr.com/post/619768297612853248/kitty)

**Thursday, 8th of Harpstring Moon**

**(Late Evening)**

  
  


“I’ll admit, I’m surprised to see you here, Your Highness.”

“I didn’t expect to see you either, Ingrid. A bit like old times, wouldn’t you say?”

She gave him a strained smile. “I suppose it is. I half expected Hilda to be pulling my leg, honestly. How did she convince you to come?”

“I would feel bad turning Hilda down. Besides,” he nodded his head towards Claude, who was arguing with Hilda about nail polish, “Hilda would have dragged Claude here one way or another.” He nodded in the other direction to El, who was sitting beside Dorothea and Mercedes. “And El’s never had a, _ ahem, _ ‘girl’s night’ before. Though considering myself and Claude’s pressense, I’m not sure how exactly this is a girl’s night…”

“So you truly don’t mind this?”

He frowned. “I do not.”

“Good. I was worried Hilda or Claude roped you into this against your wishes.”

Dimitri’s frown deepened at that. He lowered his voice. “Ingrid, do you have such a poor opinion of them?”

Ingrid’s eyes shifted over at the duo, her expression tightening. “Of course not, Your Highness. I am merely looking out for you.” He missed the days back when Ingrid was less formal around him. “And how are you holding up, with the Goddess’ blessing?” Her eyes drifted up to his ears. 

He gave her a wane smile. “I am adjusting. It’s… strange.” He mentally cringed, remembering about his earlier actions. He still felt acute satisfaction despite his embarrassment. “It seems every day I learn something new about myself.”

Ingrid gave a stiff nod. An awkward silence fell over them. Dimitri’s eyes darted to El. Dorothea was painting El’s nails a bright red, chattering about gossip. El didn’t look comfortable, exactly, but she didn’t look uncomfortable either. Claude was attempting to paint Annette’s nails while Hilda worked on his hooves. Mercedes had moved over to give him pointers. He said something that made Annette giggle, relieving some of the tension in her shoulders. Dimitri was envious of the way Claude could get others to relax around him.

“Would you like me to comb your hair, Your Highness?”

He exhaled, grateful that she didn’t ask to do his nails. Sure, they had done so as children, but that had been a different time. “If you would like.”

Ingrid settled behind him. She ran a comb through his hair. He struggled not to tense. Usually he didn’t like people touching his hair. Before Claude and El, the only one he ever let touch his hair was Dedue. He felt a stone of guilt that he held such unease around one of his childhood friends. 

Ingrid hesitated. “Your Highness… may I…?” Her hands hovered by his pricked ears.

He chewed at the inside of his cheek, careful not to draw any blood. “Go ahead.”

Gently, she felt around one of his ears. Without his input, his ear twitched at her touch. Her hand drifted a bit lower, scratching at the base of his ear. He gave a hum at the feeling. It was odd, in a way. Claude scratched his ears in the same spot all the time, and when he did so Dimitri lost himself in a comfortable haze. But Ingrid’s hands, while nice, could not relax him in the same manner. Perhaps it was because Ingrid wasn’t relaxed either. Though her hands were careful, there was a tension to her movements.

“Different, aren’t they,” he murmured. He was glad she was at his back. He didn’t want to see her eyes. “I’ve become quite the beast.”

Ingrid flinched. “You should know better than to listen to Felix, Your Highness.” She threaded her hands through his hair, combing down his scalp with her fingers. “This is a blessing from the Goddess. You may look a bit different, but you are still the honorable man I know you to be.”

Dimitri stared forward. He wondered how much Ingrid’s opinion would change if she learned about their lies. “Nemesis was blessed by the Goddess as well, and he was corrupted. I can’t allow myself to grow complacent.”

Her hands stalled. “Is that what has you so concerned? Your Highness, you would never fall in such a way.”

“Thank you, Ingrid.” He forced his words to come out steady, refraining from gritting his teeth.

“Besides…” She thumbed the shell of his ear. “Different does not mean bad. The ears are very… ah, nevermind. I don’t want to overstep my bounds.”

“It’s okay Ingrid. I know my new visage is unnerving and frightening.”

She sputtered. “That’s— Your Highness! Unnerving?! Frightening?! What makes you say that?”

His ears pressed against his head. He flexed his fingers. “I have claws and teeth now. I’m part animal. The truth doesn’t offend me.”

“Please forgive me for speaking so bluntly, Your Highness, but you look downright adorable now.”

It was Dimitri’s turn to sputter. “E-excuse me?”

“Dear Ingrid is correct,” Dorothea said. Dimitri winced, realizing the focus of the room had shifted to him. “I can’t imagine anyone being afraid of you with those cutesy-lion ears.”

“You aren’t frightening at all, Your Highness!” Annette piped in, as if she wasn’t still somewhat nervous around him.

“You seriously thought you were _ scary?” _ Hilda’s surprise bordered on offensive. “You’re like a giant stuffed animal. You just _ ooze _ a sense of soft fluffiness.”

“I— I can be intimidating!” he squeaked. 

“Of course you can be,” Mercedes said in the most patronizing tone he had ever heard. “But you’re a very sweet and kind young man.”

He turned to El (not Claude, because he knew he would receive no help there). “I’m not… ‘cute’. Right El?”

She rolled her eyes. “Dimitri, you’re adorable.”

“Looks like you’re outvoted.” Claude was too smug as he delivered the news. “No use in denying it.”

“You say that like _ you _ aren’t adorable too,” Dimitri grumbled back.

“I’ve made peace with it. Weaponized it, even.” Claude turned to Hilda and fluttered his eyelashes. “Hilda, you’ll do my work for me, right?”

“Hey! That’s my line!”

Claude’s eyes seemed to get bigger as he pouted. “Pwease?”

Hilda groaned and threw back her head. “Dimitri, whatever you do, don’t pick up Claude’s bad habits.”

Dimitri gave an awkward chuckle. “Ah, I don’t think I could pull that off anyways…”

“Oh, I’m certain you could manage it.” Dorothea moved over to him, taking his chin in her hand. She hummed as she examined his face. “Open your eyes a little wider.”

“U-um—”

“Just do it, Dimitri,” El demanded.

He opened his eyes as wide as he could. 

“Now give me a pout…”

He tried to imitate Claude’s earlier pout.

“Tilt your chin…”

His eyes were beginning to water with how wide he was keeping them.

“Now, give me a sad little expression. Imagine you just, hm, lost a puppy! Yes, something sad like that.”

He tried to follow Dorothea’s instructions.

“Er, now he looks like he’s about to cry,” Hilda commented. “Which, hey, it’s effective. I can’t see anyone saying no to a face like that.”

Dorothea took one of his hands and curled it into a fist. She pulled his fist up beside his face. “Now give me a nice and long _ ‘nyaa~’ _ okay?”

“Um… N… Naa?”

Dorothea took both of her hands and squeezed his cheeks together. “So. Adorable.”

His whiskers twitched. “C-can I stop now?”

“El’s turn, right?” Claude chirped. “Can’t have her ruining my and Dimitri’s cuteness routine by giving a murderous look in the background, now can we?”

“Claude.”

“See!” Claude gestured at El. “She looks like she wants to shank me. It doesn’t fit with our aesthetic at all.”

“Don’t listen to him, Eddie, you’re plenty cute just the way you are.”

It was El’s turn to sputter. “A-ah, thank you, but I hardly—”

“No, no, Claude’s right: It’s your turn.” Dorothea blessedly let go of his face, patting his head before returning to El’s side. “Hmm… You’re adorable no matter what expression you wear!”

“It’s true.” Hilda sighed. “Like, it’s so unfair. You’re just so— effortlessly cute.”

El’s face was beginning to pinken. “I should hope I cut a more dignified figure.”

“You totally do!” Annette gushed. “You’re, um… elegant! Yeah! But that doesn’t mean you can’t look cute at the same time!”

Dorothea nodded. “Exactly. Claude looks like a cat that’s trying to look innocent after knocking over a vase, Dimitri has the kicked puppy look, and you cover the more ‘refined’ cute look.”

“And with our cuteness combined, nations shall tremble before us!” Claude declared.

Mercedes giggled into her palm. “Perhaps that is the true power of the Goddess’ blessing.”

Dimitri stared down at his hands in his lap. They wouldn’t all be calling him ‘cute’ if they saw him on the battlefield. Dimitri began to lose track of the conversation as Dorothea and Mercedes began fussing over El’s hair, trying to find the ‘cutest’ hairdo. 

“Your Highness?” Ingrid asked after some time. “Are you feeling alright?”

Dimitri’s eyes snapped up. “Ah, forgive me. Just lost in thought.”

“Do you truly dislike the Goddess’ gift so much?” She ghosted her fingers along his mane. “I understand that it’s different, but surely this is all a good thing.”

“I will adjust.” What other choice did he have? He wondered what Ingrid would think if she knew the Goddess had nothing to do with his changes.

Ingrid began combing through his mane. He couldn’t quite relax. His eyes drifted to El, who looked a bit overwhelmed but seemed to be enjoying herself. “And these little feathers by your ears are just the cutest!” Dorothea gushed.

El raised a hand to clap over said white tuft of feathers. “Ah, thank you. I do request that you don’t touch them, however.”

“Oh my, are they sensitive?” Mercedes asked.

“Not… exactly.” He knew she was still somewhat self conscious of them, given there was no ear underneath the feathers.

“Well, we’ll avoid them. No need to explain yourself.”

“Hm, what do you say to a little braid over the top of them?” Dorothea gathered a section of her hair that framed her face. “Then you’ll match your step-brother! Oh, Ingrid dear, you should do the same for Dimitri’s hair! Then all three of them will match.”

Dimitri started at the mention of their status as step-siblings. El rolled her eyes, oddly enough. “So I’m assuming someone asked Claude about that, not Dimitri.”

“Caspar ran up to me yelling about it.” Claude snorted. “So, did anyone here win money off that little bet?”_ Bet? What bet? _

El frowned. “Bet?”

Annette’s shoulders slumped. “I knew it was dumb to bet on it, but I bet anyways. Not getting that money back…”

“Gambling is an immoral action,” Ingrid declared.

“But Ingrid, I thought you put down a good sum of money…” Mercedes tilted her head.

“It’s not gambling when I know the answer.”

Claude smirked. “Is that so? You know, Sylvain didn’t seem so sure himself…”

“Excuse me? Sylvain should know just as well as I do.”

Annette scratched her cheek. “Yeah, I thought he bet as well?”

Claude’s eyes held a mischievous glint that Dimitri was coming to dread. “So, has the cash been dolled out yet?”

“Well, there’s been a bit of a pause in the betting pool, you see.” Dorothea informed them. “Caspar swears up and down that Claude said Peryton won, but Hilda says he misunderstood the question.” All heads in the room swiveled to Claude. 

Ingrid scoffed. “Honestly. Shouldn’t my own words be enough? Between myself, Sylvain, and Felix, we would know if Gryphon was correct.”

Claude’s smirk only grew, his eyes curving into devious crescents. “I’ll admit, Caspar didn’t really phrase his question to me very well. I answered truthfully, but not in the way he thought.”

“You like being dramatic, don’t you,” Ingrid deadpanned.

“He absolutely does,” El muttered.

Dimitri coughed. “I’m a bit lost. Could someone please explain to me about this bet?”

“Yes, Dorothea, I too am also curious as to how this transformed into a bet of all things.”

“It’s all in good fun Eddie, don’t worry so much.”

“I like the theory where I’m an Imperial plant,” Claude chirped. “Creative, I gotta admit.”

“Ooh, ooh, what about the one about how it’s you and Dimitri that are step-brothers? That’s _ hilarious!” _ Hilda didn’t even look up from where she was still painting his back hoof.

Dimitri was only more confused. “What is this even about?”

“Eddie here informed the class that she had a step-brother, being either yourself or Claude. She never clarified who.”

He blinked at that. “Ah. I see.”

Ingrid sighed. “I’m sorry Your Highness. It’s a rather ridiculous notion.”

“Hey, what if it turns out no one wins the bet?” Claude asked. “I mean, did no one assume that maybe we’re _ both _ her step-brothers?”

There was a beat of silence. “Um… is that true?” Annette asked.

Claude waggled his fingers at her. “Maybe.”

Dimitri brought his palm to his forehead. “It’s not.”

Claude pouted at him. “See, this is why I call you a killjoy. Honestly, I’m disappointed in the academy's lack of imagination! Who’s to say all three of our respective parental pairs weren’t in a polyamorous love triangle?”

Dimitri sputtered at the mental image. He didn’t even know Claude’s parents, but the salacious idea was enough to fluster him. He wasn’t the only one sputtering (though he noted Hilda laughed and Mercedes giggled).

“Do not speak so of our late king,” Ingrid hissed to Claude. Her tone made him bristle.

“Ingrid,” he warned, his tail lashing without his input.

“Your Highness, he just implied that your father partook in— such immoral behaviour!”

“Hey, what’s so immoral about love? Don’t be a prude.”

“Ingrid, I took no offense. Please do not take such a tone.”

“... My apologies, Your Highness.” She turned back to Claude. “King Lambert was an honorable man. To imply he was a part of an affair is disgraceful.” She turned up her nose. “This entire bet is disrespectful.”

Dimitri had to wonder what his father thought of it all. As usual, he wasn’t around when Claude and El were nearby. He eyed the shadows of the room, surprised that the mention hadn’t summoned the spectre of his father.

Claude looked like the cat (deer?) that got the cream. Hilda’s smirk was a mirror of Claude’s. “Say, Dimitri, what’s that expression for?”

He swallowed. “My father did not have an affair.”

“Quite so. It is disrespectful to—”

“Though their union was quiet, he was lawfully married to Edelgard’s mother.”

There was a beat of silence.

“I actually won the bet?” Annette gasped.

_ “WHAT?!” _ Ingrid shouted. Dimitri’s ears plastered against his head at the loud noise. “Y-Your Highness! You mean— Lady Patricia?!”

El nodded, her face taking on a tighter expression. “Indeed. My mother fled the Empire during the Insurrection of the Seven. Though I was never told all of the details, it was then that she met Dimitri’s father and married.”

“But— I— Your Highness, I… forgive me, I am shocked.”

He shot her a slim smile. “As I said, it was a quiet thing. El was only in Fhirdiad for a year before returning to the Empire.”

“She’s dagger-girl?!” Ingrid hissed in his ear. “The one you used to have a cr—”

_ “Ingrid,” _ he hissed back, whispering as quietly as possible. He was well aware that Claude could likely hear every word Ingrid was saying. Thank the Goddess El’s hearing wasn’t quite as good as his. “I didn’t know at the time!”

Ingrid cleared her throat. “Right. Yes. Forgive me.”

“My, this is like an opera come to life! Such a dramatic twist! Why, it’s fate!” Dorothea turned to Claude. “Were you also somehow connected in all of this? What a tale: the three future rulers of Fódlan, bound since childhood.”

Claude shook his head. “Nope. No mingling with Fódlan's royalty in this deer’s younger years.”

Hilda rolled her eyes, elbowing him. “Like you’d tell anyone, mister mysterious.”

Claude winked. “It’s part of my charm.”

“Part of your annoyance,” El muttered.

Dimitri huffed a small laugh to himself. “The day all of Claude’s secrets are unearthed will be the day the Goddess herself comes down to Fódlan.”

“Gotta keep everyone on their toes. Since, you know, I don’t have toes myself anymore.”

“You know Claude, the Riegan line is an offshoot of a cadet branch of the Blaiddyd family. Distantly, that technically means we’re related.”

Claude waved a hand. “All Fódlan nobles are related. Like, seriously. The family trees of the nobility are straight up nightmare fuel.”

Hilda scoffed. “You’re exaggerating.”

“Gods, I wish I was.”

Dorothea gave a small giggle. “Is it really true, Claude? Do nobility marry their cousins?”

“O-only sometimes—” Dimitri began. Claude burst into laughter. “Second cousins! It’s quite rare to be married to first cousins…” 

“But not unheard of,” Mercedes finished.

Claude shook his head, still laughing. “Gods, that’s awful. Is that why Lorenz looks the way he does? Is it the inbreeding?”

Hilda flashed a smirk before shifting into a surprised gasp. She slugged Claude’s arm. “Don’t say that about Lorenz! He’s my cousin!”

Claude schooled his expression, giving Hilda a serious look. “Hilda, I am so sorry. You have my deepest condolences. Your sacrifice for this bit will never be forgotten.”

The two of them broke and began cackling. 

“Your Highness,” Ingrid murmured to him while Claude and Hilda continued cackling, “I apologize for my assumptions.”

“No need to apologize. As I said, you didn’t know.” Despite his words, Ingrid still looked chagrined. 

“Poor Lorenz,” Hilda gasped between laughter, “he has a haircut only a mother could love!”

“Ooh! On the subject of mothers,” Dimitri tuned back into the conversation, his attention drawn to Claude, “I need some outside opinions. What traits are considered ‘maternal’ or ‘motherly’?”

El sighed, rolling her eyes. “I’m telling you Claude, your experiences are not universal.”

He shrugged. “You and Dimitri both admitted you aren’t experts on the subject.”

“I’m quite curious about how this topic came up in the first place,” Dorothea murmured.

Dimitri cleared his throat. “We, ah, had a disagreement on the definition.”

“Motherly… motherly… Mm, being an orphan myself, I don’t think I can answer that. But in my humble opinion, I would say Manuela is a very maternal woman.”

Claude winced. “Uh, so, since I’ve already put my foot— er, hoof I guess— in my mouth, I’m just going to go all in. Is _ anyone _ in this room _ not _ an orphan?” Claude visibly relaxed when multiple people chimed in with living parents. “Phew. So, Manuela, huh? Not… quite what I picture.”

El hummed. “I can see it. As a teacher, she is very nurturing.”

Hilda shrugged. “I’ve got my dad and my big brother, but I never knew my mom. So, I’m opting out of this one!” Claude put his head in his hands. Hilda began petting his back. “Let me pet your fur, and you’re forgiven.”

“I let you pet my fur anyways.”

“Sounds like you’re forgiven, then!”

Ingrid cleared her throat. “To give a proper answer, I find maternal traits to include a caring personality, warmth, and an investment in the child’s future.”

Annette bobbed her head. “Yeah! My mom’s super caring. She likes to bake cookies for the neighbors, she always remembers everyone’s birthdays, and she’s always lending a helping hand. She’s always supported me, no matter what.” Annette snapped her fingers. “Oh! That sounds a lot like Mercie, doesn’t it? Mercie is totally the mom-friend of the Blue Lions!”

Mercedes giggled. “Aw, thank you Annie! You’re too kind.”

“Wow, you’re totally right!” Hilda gasped. “I bet you’d make a great mom, Mercedes!”

Ingrid nodded. “Indeed, you have that ‘maternal’ presence down to a T, Mercedes. You have an aura of comfort surrounding you.”

Mercedes gave a mock bow. “I am honored to be the ‘mom-friend’. Does that answer your question, Claude?”

“So… ‘Mercedes’ is the answer. Huh.” Claude scratched the back of his head.

“Do you disagree? Now I’m curious. How do you define ‘motherly’, Claude?” Mercedes asked, genuinely looking curious and thankfully not offended.

“Oh, you know. Like Mercedes.”

“Cute. Now how about a real answer?” Hilda slapped his deer back, right where he was bruised. Dimitri winced as Claude’s expression froze for a moment. He held back the pain well, though.

El sighed, pinching her brow. “What was it you said earlier?” She pitched her voice low in a mockery of Claude’s voice. _ “‘My mom can beat up anyone’s mom.’” _

“That’s not what I said.” Claude glowered at her. “Also, I don’t sound like that.”

“Your exact words were: _ ‘Rhea isn’t motherly. My mom could beat her in a fist-fight.’ _ I remember your exact words because I am _ still _ baffled by them.”

Hilda blinked rapidly. “Okay, wasn’t expecting that. Does your mom get into a lot of fights, Claude?”

“Well, yeah.”

There was a beat of silence.

“She wins them, too.”

“Claude, honey…” Dorothea gave him a pitying expression. “That’s more of an, ah… ‘paternal’ trait. Usually, it’s the man who gets into fights, and it’s the woman that patches him up and soothes feuds with her words.”

“I mean, my dad wins his fights too. And mom’s got a sharp tongue. A very, very sharp tongue.” He threw up his hands. “Like— like Ingrid! Ingrid, you beat people up all the time, right?”

_ “Excuse _ me?”

“That came out wrong. What I mean is, you don’t suffer fools gladly. You’re a strong woman, and I have no doubt that if anyone threatened, say, Dimitri, you’d pummel them into dust.”

“That’s my duty to my future King.”

Claude’s eyes rolled up into his head with the force of his eye roll. “Not what I meant. Alright, uh, how about Sylvain? You grew up with him. You’d totally defend him.”

“No. If he’s being chased, I’m sure he deserves it.”

Claude snapped his fingers. “Bingo. There we go. I can’t count how many times my mom’s said something roughly equivalent to me. I’m pretty great at getting myself out of trouble on my own. But when push came to shove, when anyone _ really _ hurt me, she hunted them down and did things she refused to tell me lest she ‘scar my baby eyes’. If Sylvain was in mortal danger, you’d stick your neck out for him in a heartbeat.”

“I suppose… Claude, what exactly does your mother do? Is she a knight?”

It was subtle, but Claude’s expression closed off.

“Oh, that would explain the disconnect!” Annette nodded her head. “After all, you’re asking this question to nobles! Oh, and Dorothea, sorry. But a noblewoman is expected to be demure and caring, not, um… ‘feisty’.”

Claude nodded. “That makes sense.” Dimitri noted he never confirmed or denied Ingrid’s question. What _ did _ Claude’s parents do? Claude mentioned that his mother was the side of the family native to Fódlan, but beyond that, Dimitri realized he knew nothing about Claude’s family. 

Did they even have knights in Almyra? The more he thought about it, the more he realized he knew next to nothing about Fódlan’s eastern neighbor. To his shame, he realized he didn’t even know how their government worked. Did they have a monarchy like Faerghus did, or were they more like the roundtable of the Alliance? Or were they something else, something he was entirely unfamiliar with? 

He would have to ask Claude. He wondered if Claude would tell them what his parents did, in the privacy of their room.

“So, you think someone that’s ‘motherly’ is… what, a brawler?” Hilda’s expression twisted.

Claude snorted. “No, not at all. A mother is supposed to be a protector.”

“A protector?”

“Have you ever seen a mama wyvern with her recently hatched clutch of eggs? If the mama doesn’t trust you implicitly, trying to touch one of her babies will end with you missing a hand. She encourages her babies to be strong and independent, but will fight to her dying breath to protect them.”

“Claude, are you comparing your mother to a wyvern?”

“Yup!”

The ladies in the room traded looks. Being compared to a wyvern wasn’t usually a complement. Yet, the way Claude described it… it sounded nice. Rough, and perhaps colder than Dimitri’s own image of a mother. Knowing Claude’s history with people out for his head (a thought that still made his blood boil), it made sense that Claude would find much more comfort in someone that would protect him. 

Dimitri wondered if Claude would ever introduce him and El to his parents. He wondered what this fierce, protective woman that Claude seemed to hold in such high regard was like.   
  
  


* * *

  
  


_ Someone is chasing him. He hears their jeers behind him. He cannot look behind him. If he looks, they will catch him. He keeps running. _

_ He tears through the palace hallways. The stomping of feet are deafening behind him. He cannot let them catch him. If he can just make it to mama’s room, he will be safe. _

_ He can’t find her room. _

_ The familiar hallways of his childhood home twist and turn. He knows her room is nearby, but he can't find it. In fact, none of the doors are familiar. The walls of the hallway loom above him like mocking strangers, so tall that he can’t see the ceiling. _

_ The footsteps are drawing closer. _

_ Somewhere, in the back of his mind, far away from where he is running, he knows what this is. He’s had this nightmare so, so many times. But that thought is much further away than the footsteps behind him. _

_ “Half-breed mutt…” the walls growl at him. “Never should have been born…” _

_ There is someone just behind him. He keeps running, but they are at his shoulder. He can hear them whisper into his ear. _

_ “Running away to your mommy, little Khalid? Coward, coward, coward…” _

_ A second pressense whispers into his other ear “She can’t save you here. You’re all alone.” _

_ He is choking. He struggles against the two guards, but he is small and they are big. They pin his arms and he cannot move. Their eyes curl into cruel crescents, their grins so wide as to split their faces. _

_ “We’re doing everyone a favor,” the first guard says. The words are familiar. He’s heard them so many times. “Just roll over and accept it.” _

_ He doesn’t want to die. He shakes. He’s so afraid that he can’t move. He knows if he wants to live, he has to move. He tries to struggle, but his limbs are stone. He tries to scream, but his voice remains trapped in his throat. _

_ He knows, distantly, that this is a dream. He knows, less distantly, that his mother won’t save him here. Not this time. _

_ The hallway darkens. He can’t breathe. They’ll kill him for real this time. He tries to spit in their mocking faces, but he can’t even do that. _

_ Then he sees her. _

_ Mama. _

_ He tries to call out to her. He cannot muster the breath, but she still looks in his direction. ‘Help!’ he tries to cry. _

_ This is different, he realizes. This never happens in his dream. Mama never saves him in his dream. _

_ Then he sees her face. Where his mother is fierce, protective, and never cowed— this woman is the opposite. She has the same hair and eye color as his mother, but her gaze is downcast and her posture submissive. The woman that looks like his mother stands at the other side of the hallway, silent. _

_ ‘They’re trying to kill me!’ he tries to yell. The two guards holding him down only laugh. A pair of deer dart down the hallway, uninterested in his plight. _

_ “That Fódlan bitch won’t help you now. She’s learned her place.” _

_ “That’s not my mama!” he screams, biting at the arm pinning him down. “Let me go!” _

_ He forgets the guards, turning to look at his mother. _

_ “Mama?” he asks, his voice shaking. “Mama?” _

_The woman that isn’t his mother smiles down at him. It’s not how mama smiles. It’s demure, and gentle, and everything mama _**_isn’t._** _She cups his cheek, and he pulls back. He flings himself against the wall, but she comes closer._

_ “I love you, my little star,” the woman stealing his mother’s face murmurs. She hugs him, and he can’t escape. Her arms— usually safe and warm— are limp and lifeless. There is no hard muscle to her cold, clammy arms. She holds him limply, weakly, but still he cannot escape. “Isn’t this better? I am a real mother now.” _

_ She presses a wet kiss to his cheek. “Not my mama,” he gasps. “Leave me alone!” _

_ “I’ll never leave you again, my baby.” She pulls him into her lap. She is so much bigger than him. He cannot fight her. “We can bake cookies together. Doesn’t that sound nice?” _

_ “B-but, you promised me you would show me how to use a bow!” _

_ “A bow? I don’t know how to use a bow.” She tucks him against her chest. He doesn’t feel safe in her arms— he feels exposed and vulnerable. “I don’t know how to fight at all. You don’t need to know either. Doesn’t that sound lovely?” _

_ She starts to pet his hair. He hates it, and he leans into her touch. He is afraid. _

_ “Khalid? I asked you a question. Doesn’t that sound lovely?” _

_ He’s shaking. Suddenly this woman that isn’t his mother feels dangerous. Not towards any attacker— only to him. His head nods without his input. “I want that,” the words come unwillingly from his lips. He doesn’t want that. He wants to be strong and safe. He wants to be away from this stranger. _

_ “Good boy.” It’s not his mother’s voice any more. He recognizes the voice, but he doesn’t know where from. “We’ll eat together, and read together, and do all sorts of fun things… just us…” _

_ “What about papa?” _

_ “Only us, Khalid. Just mama and her baby boy.” _

_ ‘You’re not my mama!’ he wants to scream. He cannot. His lips will not move. _

_ He looks up at her face, and he sees familiar green eyes looking down at him. They are filled with pride and love and hunger. They are not his mother’s eyes. _

_ She cups his chin and turns his head. He sees, on the other side of the hallway, his mama. The guards are kicking her. She bleeds out on the carpet. Her eyes are blank and lifeless. The two deer are rotting, arrows in their bodies. They nibble at mama’s corpse. _

_ “She can’t love you like I can. Don’t you love me? Call me mama.” _

_ “Mama!” he cries out, trying to reach for his mother’s corpse. _

_ “She can’t protect you like I can. I love you. Call me mama.” _

_ “Mama, mama, mama!” He is desperate, fighting against the woman holding him. Mama can’t be dead— she is strong. Mama never loses. _

_ Rhea forces him to look back at her. Only at her. She runs a hand through his hair, cooing at him. He cries. His weak, small arms wrap around Rhea’s waist. His legs won't work. _

_ “That’s my good pet.” _

  
  
  
  


He woke. He didn’t dare to move, not when he’s unsure where he is. Strong arms wrapped around him. Dimitri’s. _ Safe. Dimitri’s arms are safe. _

He slipped out from Dimitri’s arms, out of El’s feathery cocoon. Stumbling in the dark of his room, momentarily forgetting he had four legs to pilot instead of two, he nearly tripped. He stood, his entire body shaking as he fought to steady his breathing.

“Claude?”

_ Claude. _ Not Khalid. He isn’t Khalid here. He took a few more breaths before facing El. He doesn’t force a smile. She would know it was fake if he tried. “Just a dream.” This, at least, is familiar. The three of them still have nightmares often.

El just hummed. “Want to try for sleep, or stay up?”

He ran a shaking hand down his face, wiping away cold sweat. “The usual option.” The possibility of seeing… _ that _ in his dreams again made the choice obvious. “Go back to sleep. I’ll just read.” His night vision was great, but it wasn’t quite enough to read a book. Not that El needed to know that. His eyes swept through the books on his floor. He ignored the histories of the church and Seiros faith, picking up a book about poisonous plants instead. A nice, safe option.

He settled back onto the bed. El repositioned her wings to cover him, but left his top half peeking out. Dimitri, as he expected, immediately curled an arm around his waist. He worried for a moment that being held would send him into a panic attack after the contents of his dream. He thanked whatever Gods were out there that it only felt comforting. _ Safe. _

“Go back to sleep,” he repeated as he noticed El was still staring at him. She eyed him for a moment before nodding, tucking her head between his and Dimitri’s chest. She must have been tired, her breathing leveling out within a minute.

He stared blankly at the pages of his book.

He sighed. Giving in, he retrieved his quilt from her new home in the crack between his bed and the wall. A bit of a compromise with himself— he couldn’t bear to leave her out in the open. But he didn’t want to hide her away where he couldn’t sleep with her. That, and if he tucked her away somewhere, Dimitri would notice and blame himself, and Claude did _ not _ want to deal with that again.

He eyed El for a few moments, making sure she was well and truly asleep. He gave into his urge, pulling the thick blanket over his head. Unfortunately, his antlers made it impossible to hide under the blanket like he wanted to, the blanket tenting above him. He spent a minute tilting his head in different ways to level the blanket as flat as possible. It was a stupid habit— one he hadn’t done in a very long time. He blamed his new deer instincts. If Dimitri could blame licking on his instincts, Claude was entitled to blame his current desire to cower on his own instincts.

He hadn’t had _ that _ nightmare in over a year. Sometimes the nightmare twisted a bit, but never like this. The memory it was based off of wasn’t too awful. A pair of palace guards threatened him, and his mother swooped in to save the day. He still wasn’t sure if those guards had lethal intent or not (it wouldn’t surprise him if they did). But to his child-mind, the event left a deep impression.

Held against a wall, his struggling useless, his mother came to his rescue. She had beaten both of the guards within an inch of their lives. He never saw them again. He didn’t know if that meant they had been fired or executed. He’d been too cowardly to ask.

Despite the fact that his mother saved him in time, little-Khalid learned the important lesson that_ next time _ she might _ not _ be in time. He never begrudged the tough-love approach his parents took to raising him after that. He _ needed _ to be able to survive on his own.

Sometimes, though, he wished his parents had been just a little more doting. Given him just a little more attention. It wasn’t like he had anyone else to give him care; no friends, no siblings, no aunts or uncles or cousins. But his father was king, and he was busy. Logically, Claude knew his father saw him far more often than his schedule realistically allowed. His father made time for him. He felt guilty for wishing for more. His mother, he knew, was not the affectionate type. But her love for him was always fiercely visible, even during the painful times where she allowed him to fall without catching him. It hurt, but it had been important.

Claude wasn’t unaware of his small festering desire for more attention from his parents. The attention they gave him was enough. He had two living parents that loved him— that was a lot more than plenty of people could claim (he wondered how many people in the academy still had both living parents). He thought his small guilty desire had been on par with idly wishing for warmer weather. A mundane desire that meant nothing in the long scheme of things.

He could only assume that latent desire was what twisted his nightmare. Dreams weren’t things that could be analyzed perfectly— sometimes they held no meaning. Much as he didn’t want to, he knew he needed to analyse the nightmare. Self-reflection was important. If he ignored it, he would only get more and more nightmares until he confronted that part of himself. He’d been down this road before.

He had a lot of nightmares. Dreams of assassins sneaking into his room, catching him unaware. A real fear born of a real danger. Dreams of being trapped. He always needed a plan, backup plans, and escape routes— he’d had too many close calls to leave his survival up to chance. More recently, dreams of losing his legs again. Losing his ability to defend himself, losing his ability to see his ambitions come to light, losing his ability to be independent. He’d never had a nightmare of his mother’s death. Surprising, now that he thought about it, since he wasn’t the only one in the palace hated enough to have assassins sent after him. But his mother was strong. Untouchable, despite the fact he knew she wasn’t.

He imagined someone else as his mother. He nearly scoffed aloud at the thought of someone like Mercedes raising him. A _ demure _ lady would _ never _ be accepted as queen— not when said lady was the daughter of the enemy. Claude knew, if his mother was like _ that, _ she’d never have lasted long enough to have him in the first place. But had their situation been different, if he didn’t need to fear for his life growing up… he still would never replace his mother. 

He replaced the image of Mercedes with Rhea and immediately disliked the picture. Rhea and the church were in large part why his two heritages were so divided. He pitied anyone that had her for a mother (if he remembered right, she used to adopt plenty of children in a ‘previous life’). Yet he couldn’t deny how (uncomfortably) nice it had been to have someone look at him with pride. Rhea did seem to genuinely care about the three of them. In fact, considering it had only been a week, she seemed to care about them _ a lot. _

Was that the disturbing part? The gentle way she had petted his hair— objectively, it had been nice. But it made his skin crawl. She was so touchy. Obviously she hadn’t cared about him— any of the three of them— until they came back ‘Goddess touched’. Logically, it would make sense that she would try and endear herself to them. They were important to Fódlan’s future. 

He didn’t think that was what was happening. Not the full picture, at least. Dimitri and El were right— Rhea was acting in a… ‘motherly’ way towards them. Maybe he was creeped out because it was so different from his own definition. Rhea didn’t make him feel safe at all. Being completely honest with himself— he was afraid of her. Not as much as El was afraid of her, but the amount of attention Rhea focused on him was unnerving.

_ “That’s my good pet.” _ He shuddered, remembering dream-Rhea’s words. Then he sucked in a breath. The way Rhea had petted him and Dimitri— not asking, just reaching over and doing it. When she looked at him with pride— was that the sort of pride a mother might give a child, or the sort that a master might give to a pet that performed a trick? Hell, she always began their meeting by giving them _ food. _ Delicious food. _ Treats. _

_ Oh Gods. _ He wasn’t unnerved by Rhea because she was acting motherly. He was unnerved by her because she was treating them like _ pets. _ Like they were cute little toys for her to play with and shape as she chose. Cute little animals that she could grow into the shapes _ she _ wanted.

He wasn’t sure if that was better or worse. Would he prefer Rhea forcefully adopting them as children, or forcefully adopting them as pets?

Maybe there wasn’t a difference.

It didn’t matter either way, really. If that was the game Rhea wanted to play, he’d play along. He’d make sure she kept his collar loose. He’d let her think he was compliant. She already had him at her mercy. If she declared any of them aberrations or monsters, Claude knew they wouldn’t be safe. Not until they had a solid footing in the Seiros faith— not until the day Rhea’s words would be unable to sway the public against them. Until then, they needed to be on Rhea’s good side.

As uneasy as it made him, for now he needed to dance to Rhea’s tune. He knew this already. Perhaps he should be grateful her tune was so… ‘caring’. He knew Rhea was good with carrot and stick policies. Historically, the archbishop dealt harshly with her critics. But she rewarded her followers well. For now, she was giving them a lot of carrots. It was _ good _ that she was bringing them close. She might have influence and power over them, but that was a two-way street. 

He’d dealt with sticks a lot in his life. He’d dealt with a lot of sticks painted to look like carrots. He wasn’t sure he’d ever been treated with carrots, though. 

_ Dammit, now he's craving carrots. _

Dimitri whimpered in his sleep. Claude shuffled out from under his blanket, tucking into Dimitri’s side. He ran a hand through blond hair, scratching at the base of his ear. Like magic, Dimitri’s expression eased out. It only worked about half the time, but at least this way he got more sleep when it worked.

It didn’t take him long to (accidently) drift off to sleep. He dreamed of being buried alive by carrots. When he woke at dawn, he wasn’t sure if it was a good dream or a bad dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dimitri: I'm not cute ^._.^  
Everyone: D'awwww  
Dimitri: I'm a monster ^._.^
> 
> Claude: Y'all let's talk about PARENTS! :D  
El, Dimi, Dorothea: We're orphans  
Hilda: My mom's dead  
Mercedes: My dad's so abusive me and my mom had to run away  
Annette: My dad abandoned me and my mom :(  
Ingrid: I've got both parents, but dad keeps trying to marry me off...  
Claude: Y'all let's NOT talk about parents! D:
> 
> Claude, adding carrots to his conspiracy board @ 2am:  
El/Dimi: ????  
Claude: I'm ONTO SOMETHING!
> 
> Phew! Am I finally done with all the Rhea mommy issues? *checks script* For now I am! I never intended for this to be a topic discussed in this fic??? But Rhea’s got Big Possessive Soccer Mom Energy, and the trio all have some form of parental issues (why is it that I seem to address Claude’s issues, when he’s the only one with living parents?)
> 
> Look... I have a lot of feelings and hcs about Claude's parents. Like, considering how little is said about them in canon, I have an UNREASONABLE amount of hcs about them. I'm aware they can be a bit of a controversial subject. Personally, I'm of the opinion that they're not abusive. There's no one correct way to Parent (tho, there are incorrect ways...) and I think his parents did the best they could with the situation they were in. Perfect parents? No, but no one is. I think a lot of people point to Claude/Hilda's B-support where Claude says his dad tied him to a horse and dragged him around. I always interpreted that as tied ON TO the horse, but a lot of people seem to think tied BEHIND the horse?? I... think that kills people? idk. Anyways, half the reason this chapter is like this is because I kept wanting to write page-long replies to people going "Claude bby... punching isn't motherly", and I was like "he's not done EXPLAINING IT YET HIS MOM LOVES AND PROTECS HIM!" 
> 
> Ahem. The nightmare scene might have gotten away from me. 
> 
> A lot of characters don't mention their mothers canonically. Hilda I assume doesn't have a mom since her dad/bro dote on her, so (1) parent. For Ashe, Dimitri, and Marianne, I'm counting their parents as 0, since they've had (at least) 2 die already. El's mom is dead, dad's alive (1). Hubert doesn't say, but his dad is alive. Post TS when his dad 'dies' he never makes mention of his mom, so I'm just going to assume she's not around(1). Ferdinand, mom's gotta be alive, cause that boi didn't get his ethics from his dad(2). Dorothea, orphan(0). Bern has both living(2). Caspar/Linhardt only ever have their fathers listed, so I'll count their mothers(2)(2). Petra is unclear: her dad's dead, but her mom? I'll say she died in the war too- for that lil extra drama(0). Dedue: orphan(0). Mercie: both living(2). Felix: mother never mentioned, but I feel like it'd fit for her to be dead(1). Annette: both living(2). Sylvain: Does this look like a man with a mother in his life? She's probably dead(1). Ingrid: mother never mentioned, but probably alive??(2) Lorenz: Too feminine for his mom to be dead, both alive(2). Raph: both dead(0). Lysithea: both alive(2). Ignatz: both alive(2). Leonie: both (presumably) alive(2). Flayn: mom dead, dad alive(1). Cyril: both dead(0). Aaand Byleth: dad alive, mom dead(1). Out of 27 (including Flayn, Cyril, & Byleth), I counted 29 living parents (at the start of the school year).  
Edit: Someone pointed out that Mercedes biodad is dead (and one of her step-dads, I think). I forgot about that, whoops. Since her biomom is still alive (I think?) I'll count her as (1) instead. That brings 28 total parents for 27 students. 1.074 drops to 1.037... oof
> 
> Also I'm aware a few things involving Edelgard and Dimitri's relationship in this fic aren't strictly canon, and that's because this fic was started before CS was a thing, and I'm staying consistent to my writing rather than canon. It's pretty close either way.


	18. Who needs axes or lances when you have sharp implements conveniently built in

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Insert Deer Sound Here*. Pranks and play fighting. And the arrival of One Smol Boi

**Friday, 9th of Harpstring Moon**

**(Morning)**

Claude knew, objectively, that he was overreacting. He knew, objectively, that this was a normal procedure that all horses went through multiple times throughout their lives. He knew, objectively, that Percy was probably the best farrier in all of Fódlan. If she wasn’t the best, she was at least a damned good one.

He _ also _ knew, objectively, that this was an experimental procedure. He knew that Percy had never shod a _ deer _ before. He knew that just one mistake had the potential to leave him lame. He knew that if Percy had any ill intent, this would be an easy way to cripple him (despite the suicide that would be for her, both via church and via Dimitri and El). 

Percy was in the middle of walking him through the steps verbally. It was something he appreciated, though he wasn’t able to pay much attention to anything she said. Dimitri, having some knowledge in horses, even asked her a question or two. Claude was too busy looking down at the little yellow moons Hilda had painted onto his hooves the night before and trying to bottle up his mounting panic.

He was being ridiculous. He knew that. He _ knew _ that, but he was coming to find that what he knew didn’t matter in the face of a threat. His ears were pricked, his tail stiffly upright, and he couldn’t stop fidgeting. His stomach roiled and he worried he might vomit the delicious breakfast that Dedue had made for them earlier.

Percy looked at him with piercing eyes. He was reminded of Judith with the way she seemed to see through him. Or Byleth. “This is a routine procedure. You aren’t giving birth here, you can calm down.”

“Yes, yes, I’m” —he yawned— “I’m aware.”

Percy looked at him like he was a puzzle. “You’re lucky I’m not easily insulted by your doubt of my skill. Would a blindfold help?”

He tensed. “Excuse me? A blindfold? No!”

Percy shrugged. “I asked for a reason, calm down. I won’t blindfold you without your say-so, m’lord. I’ve shod more horses in my days than you’ve ever seen. Had my fair share of nervous ones. In cases like these, I give the horse some calming herbs, but would rather not over or under dose you.”

“Can’t say I’m keen on some mystery herbs,” Claude agreed. Then he yawned again, _ dammit. _ He was sick of this _ stress yawning _ business. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“I’d love to.” Percy tapped his forehoof with her boot. He flinched. “However, this is a problem. If you flinch in the middle of being shod, we’ll both have problems. I don’t fancy being kicked any more than you do.” Her eyes drifted over to Dimitri and El. “Or mauled, for that matter.”

Dimitri had the decency to look somewhat shamefaced. “I wouldn’t maul you for an accident!” 

El rolled her eyes. She grabbed Claude’s hand, intertwining their fingers. Her other hand began to rhythmically stroke down his back. “Allow me to tell you, point by point, why you’re being ridiculous. Reason one: we’re not in that cell anymore. If anything happens, you can be rushed to a priest.” _ But whether or not a priest would know how to fix a deer leg… _“Reason two: it’s in Percy’s best interest to help you. She’s been well vetted.”

“I'm aware of this,” he muttered.

Dimitri took his other hand, also lacing their fingers together. He began scratching behind one of Claude’s ears. “Reason three: we will protect you no matter what.”

Percy lifted his forehoof, bracing it between her legs. Claude did his best not to tense, trying to focus on the hand at his back or the hand scratching his ear. She began filing his hoof. Despite the fact that she’d done it once nearly a week ago, it was still terrifying to the skittish corner of his mind. It didn’t hurt, he reminded himself.

“Reason four,” El continued, “you will get through this.”

“Good job. Keep him calm, I’ll be back.” Percy left. She’d probably explained to him why she needed to leave earlier when he was too panicked to listen.

“This is humiliating,” Claude muttered to the two of them

Dimitri patted his head. “At least you aren’t compelled to lick us.”

“At least I’m not compelled to lick you,” he agreed, sighing.

Percy returned less than a minute later, a thin scrap of metal clasped between tongs. It didn’t look much like a horseshoe to Claude, but then again, what did he know? She braced his leg like before. Unwillingly, he began to tremble.

“Reason five,” Dimitri continued, dragging his attention away, “it will only get easier from here. After the first one is done —and when it is done well— there will be nothing left to worry about.”

“I’m not so sure your logic is—” He was interrupted by a loud hissing noise, followed by the intense smell of burning fur. 

Fear eroded everything. He couldn’t think, couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything. His body tensed enough to hurt. Beneath the hissing noise, there was a low whining sound. El cursed and a moment later he felt his rump hit the ground.

He couldn’t seem to breathe as he gasped through the smothering waves of fear. Dimitri wrapped an arm under his middle and around his side, whispering white noise into his ear. El gripped his arm and shoulder. They were holding him upright, he realized. His back legs were too weak to keep him standing. He couldn’t move them. He couldn’t hold himself up.

He couldn’t move his legs.

He tried to stand to no result. He tried to move his back legs to no result. _ His legs wouldn’t work. _ He jerked, only for El and Dimitri to forcefully hold him in place. He couldn’t breathe. He opened his mouth to call for help, to cry out, to say _ anything. _ The low whine grew into an animalistic cry, and it was coming from him.

He tried to speak. All he could do was bleat, over and over. Whether it was the panic or the lack of air, the world around him blurred and he lost focus.

Slowly, he came back into awareness. 

First, he noticed he was still bleating mindlessly, and that his throat was sore. Next he heard El and Dimitri speaking calmly to him. He was panting between bleats and he was very lightheaded. 

El and Dimitri held him. They weren’t panicking, so he couldn’t be in danger. Slowly he brought his breathing somewhat under control. His bleating melted into long high-pitched whines. His vision came back into focus. He stared at his hands. His knuckles were white as he clutched El’s arm. 

He raised his eyes to meet two comforting pairs. He tried and failed again to speak. All he managed was to curve the sound of his whine into a question.

“Back with us?” El murmured. “You are safe, Claude.”

Glancing down, he saw Percy was still holding his foreleg. Panic stabbed into him again. He tried to move his back half. He twitched his otherwise limp legs. He’d done exactly what Percy told him not to do by collapsing. He opened his mouth to calmly ask if he had messed up her work— and bleated.

Dimitri murmured something soothing into his ear. Slowly he managed to calm down. He couldn’t stop his quivering or his panting, but he finally stopped making deer noises. Somewhat.

“Eeeugh… uuungh… did I— hnuuugh!… Did I mess… mess it uuungh, uuh-uuh-up?” He squeezed his eyes shut in fear, humiliation, and dread.

Despite his less than elegant speech, Percy understood him. “Made it a challenge, but it’s finished without mistake. Didn’t hurt at all, did it, m’lord.”

He wheezed. She was right— despite the hissing noise and burning smell, he hadn’t felt it at all. Pain would have been preferable to the fear.

“Are you able to continue?”

“Pleeeease get it over with, eeeugh, ahhhhlready.”

She patted his hoof. “Don’t put weight on this. I’ll be back in a moment.” She released his hoof and left.

“I haaa, haaa, haaate this.”

“Are you sure you can finish?” Dimitri asked him. “Your complexion is alarmingly chalky.”

He just bobbed his head up and down, not trusting his voice to speak. He tried to stand on his back legs again. He was successful enough to move them— not successful enough to stand on them.

“Remain sitting,” El told him. “We’ll keep you up.”

“We’ve got you. Reason six why you have no reason to be afraid: only three more shoes to go. The worst is done. We’ll hold you steady.”

Percy returned with another shoe. To his confusion, she returned the hoof she already finished.

“Again? Why again?” He struggled to keep his speech steady.

“Two digits on a deer hoof. Horses only have one digit, so they only need one shoe. Thus, two shoes per hoof for you.”

“Oh wow I hate that.”

“Brace yourself. Remember, it won’t hurt.”

“It’s not the pain I care abouuuungh!”

The terror wasn’t as intense the second time, but it was nonetheless overwhelming. His speech left him and the bleating returned. This time, at least, he remained present enough to listen as Percy hammered nails into his hoof.

She finished quickly. “Feel free to stand on it. Now I’ll file your next hoof.”

Dimitri cleared his throat. “Reason six: you only have _ six _more shoes to go.”

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
  


“That wasn’t so hard, now was it. You can shrug off an assassination attempt easily, but going to the farrier leaves you in shambles.”

Claude’s hooves clacked especially loudly on the cobblestone as he carefully walked a circle. “Oh hush.”

“Claude, you bruised my arm. I will not hush.”

“You’re the one that offered. Don’t blame me.”

“How does it feel?” Dimitri asked.

“A little weird, but not too different. Better traction, that’s for sure. The whole monastery will hear me coming a mile away though.” Despite his gripes, he appeared more than relieved to be able to walk without issue. Edelgard was grateful she wouldn’t need a procedure like that for herself.

Edelgard waved her hand. “Your hooves aren’t that loud. Your mouth, on the other hand… Besides, this way you won’t risk breaking your nose every five minutes by tripping.”

He directed a pout at her. “I barely trip anymore.”

“You tripped yesterday training with Byleth.”

He elected to ignore her, finishing his walk. “Well, as far as a test walk, they seem to work well.” He heaved a sigh, his ears flopping downwards. “The day’s barely begun, and I’m exhausted.” He still trembled.

“You did well,” Dimitri murmured, pulling Claude into a hug. Not one to be left out, Edelgard extended her wings to do the same.

“Yeah. I overreacted and nearly fainted. I did _ such _ a good job.” He hung his head. “I made _ deer noises. _ I didn’t even know I could do that.”

Edelgard lightly smacked the back of his head. “None of that now. You fought through it.” Watching him freeze up with such panic had been difficult to watch. Terrifying too, seeing him rendered so helpless. But he didn’t need to know that. 

He sighed, finally returning their hug. “I need to get a handle on these deer-isms.”

Dimitri snorted. “You’re not alone in that.”

They separated. Claude, perhaps embolden by their support, braved a few hops and skips on his new shoes. He tried a few bounding leaps. Before the shoes he would have slipped even attempting to leap, but now he took to the cobblestone just as easily as the forest floor. He clacked and clattered but didn’t slip.

By the time he finished, his trembles were gone.

“Well, at least these are worth the trouble.” He slumped his head down, raising his hands in what Edelgard was coming to know as his ‘praying’ gesture. “Dear mom in the heavens, your humble and handsome son just wanted to let you know he appreciates still being able to walk. And run now, too! Now, oh Goddessly-mother, you might be thinking that ‘walking’ is a pretty low bar. But think of it this way! Most moms have to wait a year before their kids start to run. You’ve only had me for a week now!”

“Deer are actually born able to walk and run,” Dimitri corrected him.

“Wow, nobody cares. It’s disrespectful to interrupt a prayer, you know. Ahem, where was I? Right, right. Ignore your least favorite son, oh Goddess-mom, he can send his own prayer-letter if he has something to say. Now, if you could pretty please use your Goddessly miracle-skills to let me enjoy meat again, I promise I’ll start praying like a proper good boy. Promise! Then again, maybe you prefer these chit-chats. It’s gotta be so stuffy listening to people whine and whine all day long. Not me! Anyways, I’m super busy with deer-business, you know how it is. Don’t forget about the meat thing. Send me a message, we can totally work out some kind of deal. Love, your favorite and most charming son: me.”

Dimitri shook his head, but he was smiling. “I truly must wonder what the Goddess thinks of your prayers. For your sake, I do hope She enjoys them.”

Claude shrugged. “Eh, I haven’t been struck by lightning yet. Either means she loves me, or is ignoring me. Either one is A-okay in my books.”

Claude’s lively spirit was completely replenished as they made their way to the classrooms. He was insistent on showing off his new dexterity, jumping and hopping around like mad. Judging by his lifted mood, he was having a blast. She was glad for it, despite the breach of decorum. It wasn’t exactly a good look for him to appear so childish before the entire monastery— but she couldn’t begrudge him this.

She was surprised to see the three classes milling together in the courtyard. The three of them exchanged a glance and a shrug. Their presence drew everyone’s attention, but most of their assembled classmates looked away after a few moments. Conversations grew stilted and they received plenty of side-eyes. But that was to be expected.

Hilda tugged Dedue over to them. She greeted Claude by petting his back, which earned her an odd look from him. “See, take a look at his hooves! Cute, aren’t they?”

Claude dutifully lifted one hoof, showing off for Hilda. “Can confirm, I have the cutest hooves in the monastery.”

Dedue nodded. “Well done, Hilda. They look good. How was the farrier?”

He tilted his hoof to show off the shiny new metal gleaming underneath. “Done and done! Piece of cake.” 

Mercifully, Edelgard didn’t correct him.

Hubert approached. “Lady Edelgard,” he began in a low whisper. She turned her attention away from the others. “I have successfully patched the hole in my window.”

“Very good.” Now Those Who Slither would be unable to warp in and out of the monastery. None of them could afford to relax, of course, but that was heartening news. “On a different topic,” her eyes drifted around the courtyard and the collected students, “why is no one in class?”

“Today is Jeritza’s day to teach. Instead of taking on one class at a time, it has been decided to have all classes together at once.”

She raised an eyebrow. “All three houses, with only Professor Jeritza as supervisor?” It was no secret that Jeritza was poor at teaching anything beyond combat.

“Shamir has been roped into it as well, to my understanding. During your ‘absence’, Jeritza’s block was proposed as a day-long combat lesson. It has become something of a self-directed study day. Hmph, the other professors use it as a break to discuss the three classes on a whole.”

She nodded. “And what of Jeritza himself?” She didn’t need to specify to Hubert that she was referring to the man’s loyalty. Would he remain loyal to her, or would he cast his lot with Those Who Slither?

“The man is loyal to the one who helped him originally, not any other benefactor.” _ Good. _ One less thing to worry about.

She was interrupted by Claude crying out. Her wings involuntarily puffed out as she whirled to him. “Oh, Goddess above! My back! Lorenz, how could you!”

The courtyard went _ deathly _ silent.

Claude was twisted into one of his distinctly unnatural positions, his human back pressed flat against his deer back. His head faced the sky, his human half snapped backwards to lounge on top of his deer half.

Lorenz stood a pace away from him, eyes bugged and mouth hanging open. “I— I didn’t touch you!” he gasped, horrified.

She slapped Claude’s flank, the smack echoing in the courtyard just as sharply as his yelp. “Cut that out.”

“I can’t! Ohhh, my back! The pain! I can’t feel my toes!” His whining was undercut by a snicker.

Dimitri gave a long-suffering sigh. “He’s fine, everyone.”

“However will I reach the top shelf ever again? The agony!” He pushed himself back upright, winking at Lorenz. “Kidding! Hah, you should see the look on your face!”

Lorenz continued to gape, pale-faced. He stumbled a few paces back, leaning heavily against a pillar. Edelgard pinched the brow of her nose. For once, she wished she could sever all ties of association with him.

“What? I was just stretching.”

“Did you lose your _ spine?” _ Hilda destroyed the silence like a sledgehammer. She also looked paler than usual. “Goddess, I thought you just broke your back!”

“That was uncalled for Claude,” Dimitri scolded him. “Feigning injury is no laughing matter.”

“Come on Your Royalness, you gotta admit it was a _ little _funny.” He brought his fingers together, slightly apart. “Teeny bit?”

Dimitri’s stern expression was like a mask.

Claude deflated, slumping forward and hanging his upper half limply. Once again further than he should be able to stretch.

“Gross, stop that,” Hilda whined, turning away. “It’s like watching someone bend their fingers backwards.”

Claude laughed her off.

Petra approached. “I am respecting your flex-ness!” Petra was the only Black Eagle that didn’t treat Edelgard any differently, save Hubert. It seemed that extended to Claude too. Her frankness was appreciated.

“I bet you could have some _ real _ interesting positions with flexibility like that,” Sylvain said, joining their growing circle with a wink.

Petra nodded. “I am agreeing! Are you able to be doing this?” Without further warning, Petra slid into the splits.

“He’s got _ deer legs,” _ Hilda said. “Of course he can’t do the splits!” She turned to him. “Please tell me you can’t do the splits.”

“I mean, I haven’t tried it yet.” Claude shrugged. Then, to the horror of the students (half of which were pretending not to watch, the other half held no shame in staring), he tried to do the ‘splits’.

Edelgard glanced at Hubert. Hubert was watching too of course. She bit back a laugh at his expression. To anyone else, his expression was as it usually was. But to her, the slight widening of his eyes was Hubert’s equivalent of shouting _ ‘what the fuck am I witnessing?’ _ at the top of his lungs.

Claude managed a sort of equivalent to the splits. His legs splayed out in all directions, his belly flat on the ground. He looked like a broken toy horse spread flat. “Does this count?”

“I am most impressed!” Petra declared, the only one seeming unaffected by Claude’s nauseating display of flexibility.

“Doesn’t that hurt?” Sylvain murmured, wide-eyed.

She tapped his flank with her talons. “Have you had your fill of fun yet? Get up.”

“Pff, I’m only just getting started.” True to his word, he and Petra began a small flexibility contest. 

Dimitri shook his head. “At least he’s feeling better,” he whispered to her. Reluctantly, she nodded her agreement.

It wasn’t long before the flexibility contest amassed a small circle around them. Sylvain threw out suggestions about difficult positions. They were all worded as innuendos, not that Petra noticed. Caspar loudly cheered and shouted. Leonie muttered about ‘anatomical impossibilities’. Mercedes joined Caspar in cheering but was more tasteful.

As much as she hated to give Claude credit for his stunt, the tension in the courtyard thawed. She wondered if he’d been trying to defuse the tension on purpose. If it was on purpose, she had to hand it to him. He’d gained the attention of Petra, one of the few students that treated their altered appearances as relatively normal. Through his interactions with her, he was helping to normalize their changes among the three classes.

That, or he just enjoyed messing with people and the rest was a happy coincidence. With Claude, it was impossible to tell.

“What are you doing?” Shamir’s flat tone rang out across the courtyard. Jeritza was next to her, glaring. Seteth and Flayn stood with them. “All of you, to the training grounds. We have work to get done.”

“You all know the drill,” Shamir said as they all entered the training grounds. “Pick an instructor. I will pick one for you if you take too long.”

Flayn waved her hand above her head. “I am also an instructor today! I may appear young, but I believe I have much to teach in the manners of faith magic!”

“That’s Seteth’s little sister, isn’t it?” Edelgard murmured. “Were they really unable to get anyone else? This is a monastery, is there seriously a lack of healers willing to teach?”

“Look how excited she is,” Dimitri murmured back, “and the way Seteth looks proud. It would be my guess she volunteered.”

Claude snorted. “Seteth is also giving out a lot of death glares.”

There were four instructors, thus four groups. Jeritza with swords or brawling, Shamir with bows, Seteth with axes or lances, and Flayn with faith.

Shamir prowled the lineup. “You.” She took Sylvain by the shoulder. The red-head stood in Shamir’s group, until she bodily shoved him over to Seteth’s group. “You did this last week. You can’t shoot the broadside of a barn, and never will.” She switched Hilda from Flayn’s group to Seteth’s group, much to her visible distress. “Stop attempting to slack.” She moved Hubert from Jeritza’s group to her own group. “Don’t bother pretending you’re interested in swords.”

Edelgard liked the setup. Her and Dimitri chose the same instructor and Claude was within eyeshot. Much better than being split into their respective classes.

The class was mostly self-driven by the students. They were to spar with each other with Seteth acting as a supervisor and giving corrections here and there. They were encouraged to switch partners often to get a diverse set of opponents and understanding of different fighting styles. Were she at her old ability, she would have enjoyed the opportunity. As it was, she and Dimitri remained each other’s partner as both of them were at an awkward skill level.

Glancing over at Claude, she saw Shamir’s group setting up to shoot at targets. They were also paired up— the first of the pair would shoot, and the second of the pair would offer commentary and advice. Given the odd number of students, Shamir rotated between pairs. 

She was beyond grateful that Byleth had them practice the day earlier. Even as she settled into a stance before Dimitri, axe out and ready, she was horribly off balance. If she hadn’t had _ any _ practice, she would have made a fool of herself.

Seteth approached them before the first bout. “Should either of you find it necessary to take a break, please do not hesitate to do so. I am aware that the two of you have yet to fully adjust. There is no shame in it. By this, I also will be mostly unable to lend advice, though I will do my best.”

“Thank you,” Dimitri gave a nod of his head. “We will muddle through this as best we are able.”

_ Muddle _ was an apt description. Her usual axe, just as the day before, was proving difficult to wield. She struck her own wings much more often than Dimitri struck her.

“If I may offer a suggestion,” Seteth said. “As you sweep with your axe, you are not accounting for your wings.”

Seteth gave her surprisingly good advice. Under his instruction, she was able to mime a few slow swings without clipping her wings. It was something she would need to master the muscle memory for, but for now it was a decent start.

“Very good,” Seteth praised as she ran through his drill again. “Your weapon is an extension of your body. Your wings are as well and cannot be ignored any more than your arm can.”

Seteth moved off to help another student. Edelgard swung a few more times at nothing. It would take time to ingrain the instinct into her wings to move with the weapon, but she wasn’t hitting herself anymore. She turned back to Dimitri and grinned. 

The two of them returned to sparring. They were both still sloppy but they were improving. Until Dimitri began aiming for her wings.

“You are swinging it right in front of my face as you strike, El. An enemy will do the same.”

He was right. Her wing stung. “Another.”

She struck out again. This time, as her axe came close to Dimitri, she twisted and struck Dimitri’s shoulder with the brunt of her wing. He grunted, stumbling, giving her the opportunity to press forward and bring her axehead under his chin.

He chuckled, grinning with teeth. “Well done, you got me.” She helped him up. His pupils were blown wide, his tail swiping in excitement. It would be a lie to say she wasn’t working herself up as well. Her feathers stood on end.

From there, the two of them continued winning and losing back and forth. She grew more comfortable using her wings offensively and fluidly, as well as the stance of her talons. Dimitri in turn was growing more steady on his altered feet as his stance shifted to keep him stable each strike.

One particular bout brought her closer to him than before. Her wing smacked his shoulder. But as she closed in with her axe, he dropped his lance and lunged. His body slammed into her, toppling them both over and sending her axe flying. She squawked, fighting against him as they grappled on the ground. Her wings beat against his back as she fought against his wrestling. 

They rolled back and forth. He was stronger than her but not by an unwinnable amount. She was more versatile fighting back than he was. Pushing her wings against the ground, she rolled him over and under her, her talons grasping around his legs and her hands locking his arms. He growled and snarled, sharply nipping at her arm. She didn’t flinch, bearing down on him and snarling in return.

Using his superior weight, he managed to roll them again until he was on top. He grinned wildly, bearing his fangs. She brought her talons up to rake at his belly, thumping her wings down against his back. He growled, freeing one of his arms from her hold. She pressed her advantage and flipped them again.

Back and forth they wrestled in the dirt, a pile of growls and snarls and squawks.

Neither of them were on top when Claude shouted. As one they jolted apart, turning in the direction of Claude’s voice. Her wings hooded above her as she prepared to lunge at whatever endangered Claude. 

“See?” Claude stood with his back to them with both arms outstretched. He gestured behind him, to them. “And now they’re done.” He turned his head and winked at them. “No hard feelings, right you two?”

Edelgard blinked at him. He wasn’t in danger at all. Behind him she saw Hubert, who wore a murderous look and a spell prepared at his fingertips.

Then she remembered where they were. Her jaw fell open as she whipped her head to Dimitri. He shared her revelation, his face blooming red. 

“Lady Edelgard,” Hubert rushed past Claude and to her side, his eyes blazing. “Are you well? This _ brute _ dared to attack you.” The magic still danced around his hands. His unsaid _ ‘Say the word and I will _ end _ him’ _ was heard loud and clear.

“Your Highness.” Dedue stood nearby, offering a hand to help Dimitri up.

Edelgard cleared her throat. “I am well, Hubert. No harm done.” She placed her hand over his. He was still furious, but he understood her message. The magic winked out.

“El, I’m so sorry,” Dimitri blurted, his face bright red and ears pressed against his head. It was only in the absence of it that she realized that Dimitri had been purring like thunder during their wrestling match.

She herself felt the sharp press of humiliation. She could feel the stares of everyone on her and Dimitri. The… ‘play fight’ had been immensely satisfying and, dare she say it, _fun._ _Far, far too fun. _It had been animalistic. Her wings pressed tightly to her back.

“So who won?” Claude chirped to them. “You guys do remember that it's Jeritza that’s teaching brawling right now, not Seteth, yeah?”

She turned away from them both. Shame curled in her stomach. Without a word, she left them in favor of practicing on a training dummy instead.

  
  


* * *

Dimitri slunk over to the side of the training grounds. He didn’t trust himself to hold a lance without splintering it into a thousand shards. He slid off to the side and into the shadows. Settled down between a row of weapon racks and behind a pillar, he was mostly obscured from the rest of the grounds. After his lapse with El, he needed a break from the stares.

He eyed Claude. He was exclusively giving advice, not shooting any arrows himself. He fluttered between students. Aside from Hubert. Claude was avoiding Hubert. Petra eagerly accepted Claude’s input, not shy at all. Ignatz and Ashe alike were a mix of reverent and deferential towards him and his advice. It was Bernadetta that was the odd one. If he remembered correctly, the mousey Black Eagle student was terrified of anything that moved. Yet as Claude leaned over to correct her posture, she merely hunched her shoulders and shyly smiled at him. He wondered what happened to allow the girl to trust Claude while he and Edelgard were busy sparring.

Out of the corner of his eye a flicker of movement caught his attention. He turned his head. Settled between a pile of boxes was a young boy. The boy went stock still as Dimitri’s eyes fell on him.

Dimitri blinked a few times before clearing his throat. “Ah, apologies if I startled you. Are you watching everyone train?”

The boy slowly nodded. “Shamir said it was okay.” His voice was defensive.

“Even if she hadn’t, I wouldn’t shoo you away. Which group has your interest, if I may ask?” The boy eyed him warily. Given his recent display with El, he didn’t blame the boy. “I promise I won’t bite.” He winced at the double meaning. “Literally or metaphorically.”

“Um, okay…” He pointed to Shamir’s group. “Shamir told me to watch the different ways people shoot. I’m her apprentice.”

“Oh! I was unaware, my apologies!” The boy looked much more like a servant than the apprentice of such a renowned mercenary, but Dimitri would take him at his word. “Did she bar you from practicing with the students today?”

“I’m just here to watch. ‘Sides, I don’t think any of them would want to help someone like me.”

He tilted his head. “Due to your age? There are other young students as well.”

The boy gave him a flat look. “Because I’m from Almyra.”

Dimitri flinched. “Oh. My apologies.” Examining the boy closer, he felt ridiculous for not noticing it before. He looked a lot like Claude. His mood plummeted as he realized what the boy implied. “Are people causing you grief over such a thing?”

“Um.” Dimitri watched as the whites of his eyes grew, as he tensed and shrunk back. “I’m n-not c-c-complaining. It’s— it’s f-fine!”

Dimitri narrowed his eyes, rising to stand. His tail lashed. His mind was filled with thoughts of Claude and the discrimination he stated that he stood to face if any knew of his Almyran heritage. He thought of Dedue, who faced horrible rumors and distrust from so many around him.

“I’m sorry…!” the boy squeaked.

“Why are you apologizing?” He was stopped short by a familiar distinctly sour smell. Flashes of _ cold _ and _ trapped _ and _ danger _ flashed in his mind. It was the smell he was coming to associate with fear. Dragging his attention away from thoughts of Claude and Dedue, Dimitri was shocked to realize that the Almyran boy in front of him looked terrified.

His eyes darted around the area for any threat before he realized that the boy was afraid of _ him. _ He clamped his jaw shut. His jaw, which had been held in a snarl. He took a quick step back, raising his hands before him, spreading them wide. “I am so sorry, it was not my intention to scare you! Blast, I can’t do anything right today.”

The boy still eyed him with fear. 

He sighed, his shoulders slumping. “I can leave, if you wish. I’m aware my odd appearance is frightening.”

“Y-you don’t gotta leave! I, I’ll go instead, I’m not important like you.” The boy began to edge away before pausing. His back to Dimitri, he began to mutter quietly to himself. “But I can’t watch everyone out in the open. Shamir wants me to watch everyone, I can’t let her down… Maybe I can climb the roof? But if someone sees me, they’ll think I’m up to something bad.”

“Please stay,” Dimitri interrupted, making the poor boy jump a few feet in the air. “I’m sorry for intruding on your space.”

“No! I don’t wanna cause any problems!”

Dimitri gestured to the wide amount of space. “We can share the area, then. I promise I pose no threat to you.” He bowed. “Again, I deeply apologise for scaring you.”

“You didn’t scare me,” the boy lied.

“Nonetheless, I acted poorly. Ah, I haven’t even introduced myself! Please forgive me. My name is—”

“I know who you are. Lady Rhea really likes ya, and the other two too.” The boy gave him a look he couldn’t parse. “She talks about you guys a lot.” He fidgeted, but reluctantly accepted Dimitri’s invitation and sat down a little ways away.

“I see. Do you speak with the archbishop often?”

The boy puffed up his chest, lighting up. “Every morning! I’m her personal servant! She gives me tasks to do, ‘cause I’m the best at cleaning. I owe her a lot. It’s why I gotta learn all I can from Shamir, so I can protect Lady Rhea some day!”

Dimitri sat down, grateful for the boy’s shift in attitude. “Oh! You must be Cyril then, correct?”

The boy stared at him with wide eyes. “How do ya know my name?”

“Lady Rhea mentioned you. You clearly fit her description of ‘earnest’ and ‘hard-working.’”

“She said that about me?” Cyril ducked his head to stare at his feet, but the smile on his face was impossible to hide. “I gotta earn my keep, that’s all. I’m no one special.” He finally looked up at Dimitri, his previous fear entirely gone. “See, that’s why Lady Rhea’s so amazing! She’s so kind, and nice, and she’s the best! Lady Rhea expects great things from you, y’know. Please don’t let her down, okay?” Cyril fixed him with a determined look.

“I’ll do my best.” His lips curled into a smile at Cyril’s earnestness. Rhea hadn’t been exaggerating, it seemed.

“I hope you’re not just saying that.” 

Dimitri cleared his throat. “I wish to apologize again for my behavior.” He took a moment to explain to Cyril about Dedue, and how seeing discrimination made him angry. He left out Claude. “I do not wish for you to think I would harm you merely for where you were born. I abhor that form of thought.”

“That’s real kind of ya. That’s gotta be why Lady Rhea likes you so much. Other than the Goddess-blessed part.” Cyril fidgeted. “Um, can I ask about that? Are you really a cat-person?”

Dimitri cleared his throat. “It’s, ah, complicated.”

“What’s complicated?”

Both he and Cyril jumped at Claude’s voice. He cursed himself for getting so distracted. He made a mental note that Claude’s hooves were much quieter on dirt than cobblestone. He cleared his throat. “Claude, hello. Is class finished?”

“Nah, I’m just taking a break. Thought I might see if you wanted to crash Flayn’s faith seminar with me.” His eyes slid to Cyril. He gave a little wave. “Making a new friend?”

Dimitri frowned. There was something off about Claude. His expression and ears proclaimed he was relaxed and at ease, but something in his instincts squirmed. “This is Cyril. Lady Rhea spoke of him, remember?”

Claude tilted his head. “Oh yeah. Nice to meet you Cyril! I’m sure you know who I am.” Claude winked.

Cyril seemed a bit intimidated with the addition of Claude. “Yeah, I know who you are. You’re pretty important.”

Claude leaned against the wall, resting his chin on his arms. “So, what’re you two chit chatting about?”

_ Ah, _ Claude’s nosyness. He should have known. He was about to fill him in when the wind shifted and he caught a mouthful of Claude’s scent. _ Fur and musk and incense and spice and pungent fear fear fear. _ His hackles rose and he was on his feet immediately.

It wasn’t until Claude cleared his throat that Dimitri realized he’d moved to Claude’s side. Claude tipped his head towards a confused Cyril.

Dimitri didn’t _ care _ that they had an audience. “What’s wrong?” He visually examined Claude for injuries and found nothing. He held back the urge to get closer to smell.

Claude’s eyebrows rose. “What makes you think something’s wrong?” Whatever it was, apparently he didn’t want to speak it in front of Cyril. 

He stifled a growl. He forced himself back into the mask of the perfect prince, despite the continued smell of fear coming from Claude. He gave a nod of his head to Cyril. “It was a pleasure to meet you. Please, if anyone gives you any grief over where you are from, you are free to send them to me. I will set them straight.”

He didn’t wait for Cyril to reply, tugging Claude away by the arm. Eyeing the training ground, he noted that El was still destroying training dummies. He dragged Claude outside the training grounds, around to behind the building. “We’re alone now. Tell me what is wrong.”

Despite still emitting fresh fear, Claude outwardly showed no sign. He wondered if maybe his analysis of the smell was incorrect. “Nothing’s wrong. Why are you so sure something’s wrong?” Claude stared at him with suspicion. “I was just curious about what you were talking to Cyril about.”

“Claude, don’t—” It clicked. “Oh. Claude, were you afraid I would tell another Almyran about your heritage?”

Claude continued to look at him carefully. “Now I’m _ very _ curious about why you’re so certain I’m afraid.” He smirked, gesturing to himself. “I’m not shaking, am I?”

“No, I suppose not.” He frowned. Maybe the scent meant something different, then? Claude was a bit tense, but Claude’s deer instincts could leave him tense for anything as simple as a butterfly fluttering in the corner of his vision. “You smell terribly afraid.” He flushed as his words caught up with him.

“You can smell fear? You never mentioned that.”

“I _ did _ mention I am still getting a handle on my enhanced nose. Had I not accidentally scared Cyril, I wouldn’t have recognized it.” 

Claude cocked his head, that look of endless curiosity taking over. “Fascinating. What’s it smell like? Do all emotions smell? Do happy emotions smell good, and bad emotions smell bad? How long can you smell someone’s emotions for?”

“Claude, one at a time, please! I don’t know.” He listed off the small list of memorized scents: _ Claude, El, _ and _ fear. _ As well as _ deer, _ unfortunately. “Hold a moment. You are distracting me! Claude, you _ still _ smell of fear.”

He scoffed. “Did you forget my mortifying terror earlier today? Of course I smell like fear, I was drenched in it earlier.” 

“Oh. Right.” His pungent fear had been mostly covered by the smell of burning fur back then. His current scent smelled too fresh to be from that, but Claude wasn’t showing any outward signs of fear. Perhaps it was a leftover scent after all. “I’m sorry for overreacting.”

“No harm done. You said you scared Cyril?”

“Indeed. To my shame, I…” he realized Claude was fishing for information. “You need not beat around the bush. What do you want to know?”

Claude’s eyebrows hit his forehead. “You’re getting to know me _ far _ too well. I’m just curious about Cyril. Did he say anything interesting?” 

Not fully convinced, he relayed the conversation nonetheless. Claude seemed satisfied, and notably the scent of fear was lesser. Yet _remained present. _ “Claude, please, I assure you I won’t leak your secret.”

“I trust you. I know you won’t tell anyone who I am. Now, we’ve been gone long enough. Better get back before El gets worried about us, yeah?” Claude didn’t even wait for a reply, snagging his elbow and ushering him back. “I overheard some of what Flayn was saying earlier, and I think it might help you with your…”

He did his best not to dwell on the faint smell of fear that remained.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it’s only taken, what, 130k words to finally get Claude his deer-shoes! Not my best chapter, but if I kept waffling over it this fic would never be updated. At this point I just need to put it out so I can keep moving forward. I had a lot of technical details about Edelgard’s wings and weapons that I ended up cutting for being booooring. Hopefully what remains is entertaining. And hey, finally got Cyril into this fic! Been dying to involve him for a while, I love him. I wanted to have more class-wide interactions, but writing 20+ characters in a single scene is difficult. I ended up compromising so that I could, *again*, get this chapter out. 
> 
> A friend of mine recently told me that Dimitri, El, and Claude in this fic somewhat make an a/b/o dynamic: Dimitri is aggressively protective + scent stuff, El is (so far ;3c) the most ‘normal’ of them, and Claude’s got prey-animal-syndrome. It doesn’t perfectly fit, but I thought the comparison was funny especially since I don’t read very many a/b/o fics. I’ve decided that I shall rename Alpha/Beta/Omega to reflect this fic. Thus, the three classifications will be renamed to Aaah lion!/Bbird/Oh deer, aka a/b/o. No I do not accept criticism. 
> 
> If anyone doubts how powerful wing strikes can be, I suggest they walk up to a goose or swan and ask about their wings. They’ll show you. It’s painful to say the least— now imagine that x10 times bigger for El. What I'm getting at is that Dimitri will find some massive bruises on his back in the morning ;)


	19. How (not) to properly apologize

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An Attempt is made; flexing those juicy self-destructive habits; Claude has the lowest defense of the trio, rip him

**Friday, 9th of Harpstring Moon**

**(Afternoon)**

“Claude. What am I doing?”

“Why ask me? You’re the one doing it.”

“I just… argh. I just want to apologize to El!”

“She’s in our room. She wants some space, remember? Should probably respect that. Unless you’re keen on more back-breaking feathery-whaps. You might be able to handle her wings-of-doom, but I’m pretty sure one hit from her will snap my back like a toothpick. Giving her space: good idea. Disturbing her space: less good idea.”

“I am _ aware _ Claude, thank you.”

“So how does ‘wanting to apologize’ translate to ‘snooping around a dark alley’?”

“I have no idea. And I’m not _ snooping.” _

“Right. Prowling, my bad.”

“Why am I doing this…”

* * *

“Did you make a _ nest?” _

Edelgard glared at Claude, puffing up her wings as she hunkered a bit deeper into the bundle of blankets. “I merely reorganized our blankets.” After she stress-cleaned Claude’s room. And stress-cleaned her own room. When she’d run out of things to stress-clean, she tried to organize the blankets. Unfortunately, her new idea of ‘organization’ didn’t quite match her old one. The twisted and woven blankets were not a seemly sight, but they were _ so _ satisfying.

Perhaps she was being too harsh on Dimitri. But whenever she thought about everyone watching her roll in the dirt with Dimitri… It went beyond embarrassment. She was _ humiliated. _ She was supposed to be _ better _ than this. She _ had _ to be better than this.

“El, I’m very sorry about earlier.” Dimitri lingered behind Claude, his head and tail both drooped, hands clasped behind his back. 

She sighed. It was difficult to remain angry at him when he looked so pitiful. “In the future, if you make a fool of yourself, don’t drag me into it as well.”

“Pff, isn’t that what siblings are for?”

She ignored Claude. “I know it wasn’t on purpose.”

“I promise I will never allow such a lapse again.”

Claude snorted. “I know you _ mean _ that, but don’t go making empty promises.”

Dimitri bit his lip, still not looking up from the floor. “My behavior continues to be unacceptable.”

“Stop that.” _ This _ was another thing that annoyed her. Dimitri’s self-deprecation knew no limits. “Accept your actions and move forward. Miring yourself in self-pity is pointless.”

“You’re right. Again.”

Claude nudged Dimitri with his hind leg. “Pst, the gift.”

If anything, Dimitri seemed to hunker further in on himself as his cheeks reddened. “I’m… not certain…”

“It’s the thought that counts!” Claude whispered. Edelgard rolled her eyes at their antics.

“El, I, ah…”

“He wants to prove that he’s very sorry and that he loves you a whole lot with a gift,” Claude chirped, swaggering over to her and looking far too pleased. “It was very adorable watching him ‘pick out’ your gift.”

“Claude! Don’t tell her!”

Claude leaned forward to whisper to her. “He was soooo embarrassed. Still is.”

“Claude I can hear you.” Dimitri’s ears twitched.

“He’s just a big sweet kitty-cat. Who is easily over excited.” Claude winked.

Dimitri cleared his throat, his ears pressed against his skull and face red.

“Well?” She raised an eyebrow. “Now I'm curious.”

“I just… wanted to… I don’t know why I…” Squeezing his eyes shut, Dimitri thrust his hands out in front of him. “Here! For you! Sorry!”

She huffed a small laugh at his expression before glancing at his outstretched hands. 

And then she screamed. 

At her shriek, Dimitri dropped the dead mouse on the floor. She scrambled to put as much distance between herself and the mouse as possible.

“So, mice: bad idea,” Claude grunted. “Lesson learned. _ Ow.” _

Eyes locked onto the mouse, she watched as Dimitri picked it up. “I… apologize for—”

“Get that out of my sight! Take it away!”

He put his body between the mouse and her.

“Whatever _ foolish _ notion led you to believe I might want such a disgusting thing? Such a — a wretched, horrible—”

Dimitri silently left the room.

She shuddered, wrapping her wings and arms around herself. 

“You didn’t need to be so harsh. He looked crushed.” Glancing over, she realized Claude was laying on the floor for some reason. “He was trying so hard to apologize. Neither of us knew you don’t like mice.” His eyes flickered from the door and to her, back and forth.

“You can go to him. I don’t care.”

After a few moments of ignoring her, he wobbled to his hooves. He didn’t leave as she expected — instead he crawled into <strike> her nest </strike> the bed. “Blame me for this one. It was hilarious watching him ‘hunt’ for you, flipping between having fun and being mortified. I thought you’d get a kick out of it — y’know, he’s a kitty bringing a dead animal to someone he cares about.”

She latched onto him, curling around him. “I… do not enjoy rodents. That is all.” Claude was silent as he ran a hand through her hair. Selfishly, she soaked in the comfort. “What a rotten day.”

“Good thing none of us were turned into half-mouse hybrids. That’d be awkward.”

She groaned, shuddering anew. “Do not even _ mention _that to me! I’ll be having nightmares about that now.”

Claude was looking at her intently. His ears were tilted down and back, pressed tightly against his head. She had no idea what that position meant. He tilted his head a bit, leaning a bit closer. 

Then he licked her cheek.

She sputtered, shoving him away. He laughed his head off as she rubbed at the wet spot on her cheek. “Pretending to be Dimitri now, are you?”

“Don’t glare at me! I see that smile you’re trying to hide, you can’t fool me. Admit it, my scheme worked.”

She turned away from him, facing the wall. Against her will, she did give a small laugh. The little amount of good cheer Claude gave her dried as she realized Dimitri wasn’t around to share it. She was still upset at him, but she also missed him. 

Damn these needy instincts.

“We must do something about Dimitri’s instincts. They are affecting him worse than ours are. Willpower alone is not enough for him as he clearly cannot help himself. He is dragging us down with him. We need to—”

“C’mon, turn around already. You’re not mad at me now, are you? Temper, temper.”

She frowned, turning back to him. _ “Now _ I am annoyed with you. It’s rude to interrupt me.”

He threw up his hands. “If it bugs you so much, I won’t lick you again. It was just a joke. I’m not Dimitri.” He winked.

“I didn’t mind. Ah — that is no excuse to do it again! But I’m not upset.”

He shrugged.

Deciding to ignore Claude’s odd eccentricities, she continued where she left off. “As I was saying, we must find a solution to Dimitri’s urges. He is our weak link. We must present a united and strong front if we are to survive. None of us will ever be taken seriously if he continues to act like a simple-minded cat. That goes for _ your _ decorum as well, Claude. Your lackadaisical attitude reflects on all of us.” She emphatically pointed at him.

He raised a single eyebrow. “Who, me?”

“Yes you. No arguments? Good. Do not misunderstand — the way you hop about is heartening to watch. But it also appears childish and bumbling. We are always being watched and judged. No one will respect you if you refuse to act in a mature manner. Perhaps we can burn off our animalistic urges in private. If we visit the forest a few times a week to let loose, perhaps that will help curb our new… habits.” When Claude didn’t chime in, she was forced to prompt him. “Well? What do you think?”

He hummed. “Maybe?”

“Wonderfully unhelpful. Try again.”

He narrowed his eyes, still watching her intently. “You got over the mouse thing pretty quick. That’s good. Think you’re up to chasing Dimitri down? You know as well as I that he’s off sulking somewhere.”

“You can just tell me if you think my idea is a poor one. No need to change the subject.”

“I mean, sure, I _ could _ do it. But you’re the one he’s beating up himself over. So you should be the one to go get him.”

“Excuse me? Claude, are you ignoring me?”

He tapped his chin. “I bet he went to the dock. That’s where he went last time. Or maybe he went somewhere out of sight… hopefully he hasn’t decided to slip out of the monastery.” His eyes slid back to her. “Hey, don’t give me that look. I’m trying to be helpful.”

“You’re doing a poor job of it.” She crossed her arms. “I suppose you are upset at me, then. Will you speak _ plainly _ for once in your life? Ah, how could I forget: you’re incapable of saying what you think without layers of misdirection.”

“Gah, no need to get angry at me! I’m just concerned about our fluffy friend. Surely you are as well. Remember what happened last time we split?”

She grimaced. “You are correct. Dimitri is atrocious at apologizing, but… I suppose he is earnest nonetheless. Perhaps that is something else we can work on with him.” Now that Claude brought it up, Dimitri sulking on his own was a _ disastrous _ idea. She hauled herself out of <strike> her cozy nest </strike> the bed. She extended her hand to help Claude up. “Let’s go. Best to find him before dinner.” _ Before he destroys something and falls further into his sulk. _

“You should be the one to look for him. Clearly my influence didn’t help last time. He’s probably angry at me for encouraging him.”

“I would feel far more comfortable with you by my side. Now get up. Don’t be lazy.”

“You can handle this. My hooves are a little tired, so I think I’ll let them rest for a bit.” He wiggled a hoof for added effect, giving her an exaggerated pout and sticking out his bottom lip.

She rolled her eyes. “Your hooves are fine. If not, I will take you to Percy. She was adamant that they should not hurt at all. If they do, that’s a problem.”

She expected him to react to her threat. He didn’t. “Oh no, that’s your mother-hen face! You’re an _ eagle, _ not a _ hen. _ I’m fine, just a little sore.” He patted the blankets. “Nice nest by the way. I’ll keep it warm. All we need is a few eggs and it’ll be the real deal. Maybe you should stop by the dining hall and grab a few!”

She ignored his poor taste in jokes. “Claude, you are coming with me.”

“Yes, yes, good luck. Tell Dimitri I miss him.”

She snatched him off the bed. The moment he recognized what she was doing, he started to struggle. “I’ll carry you if I have to,” she hissed to him.

_ Usually, _ Claude grumbled about being carried, but his animalistic traits showed off his true appreciation. _ Usually, _ his tail would swish happily side to side, his ears would be content and at ease, and his body would relax. _ This time _ Claude was tense in her arms. His ears were still pressed against his head. His tail didn’t so much as twitch.

“Claude?” His eyes were closed, his lips pressed into a half-smile, half-grimace. “Claude, are you in pain?”

She watched his Adam's apple bob. “Fine, fine, I’ll go with you. Anyone ever tell you you’re stubborn? It’s not a very lady-like attribute, y’know.” He waved a hand, peeling his eyes open. “Oh great. Don’t give me that look.”

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Do you want me to put you down?”

“Told you, hooves are a bit tired. I’m in dire need of a nap. Bet Dimitri is too.”

“That’s a very poor lie. You might enjoy naps, but unlike Dimitri you don’t need them.”

She set him down on the floor. He didn’t even try to stand. “What part of ‘I don’t want to put pressure on my sore hooves’ do you not get? Put me on the _ bed, _ not the _ floor.” _

“Get up.” She nudged his flank with her talons. “Tell me where it hurts.”

He didn’t get up. His head listed to lay against the side of the bed as he continued to side-eye her. Considering he refused to tell her anything, she combed over him with her eyes. He was sweating slightly. He was trying to keep some degree of pain off of his face. His ears were still tight against his head. 

Seeping from the tightly pressed edge of his ear, a blot of crimson blood marred his skin.

She knelt in front of him immediately. Gently, she tilted the soft cartilage of his ears. A trickle of blood came from his ear.

He clucked his tongue. “Busted. It’s no big deal, they don’t hurt too bad.”

“What happened?” She checked his other ear and found it equally bloody. 

“It was an accident. Hey, hey, calm down.” He ran a hand down her wing. “It’s fine, I’m not upset at you.” He winked. “One of us needs to keep a cool head. Imagine if I was upset at you — we’d have an upset-triangle. You upset at Dimitri, me upset at you, and Dimitri upset at me. Like a love-triangle, but even dumber!”

“Claude, _ what happened?” _

“So this might be a good time to admit I can’t read lips. Or hear at all currently.” He winked. 

“What?! This _ whole _time?!” Their stilted conversation made much more sense. She slapped her forehead. “And you can’t even hear what I’m saying.”

“That’s right, I can’t hear you.”

Her eyebrows rose.

“What? I can _ guess _ what you’re saying. You’re kind of predictable.”

She eyed the ceiling. “You are insufferable.”

“Love you too!”

“Right. We’re going to Manuela right now. Get up.” Upon realizing he couldn’t hear her, she stood and gestured for him to as well.

“Seriously? I told you, go find Dimitri on your own. I’ll hold down the fort here.”

She gestured again. _ “Up. _ Get _ up.” _ She pulled at his hand, tugging him to his feet. He glared at her, but if she was forced to pull him to Manuela’s like a child, she would do it.

She tugged him forward, and he stumbled. “I’m also _ very _ dizzy right now. The room’s spinning a bit. Or a lot.” She sighed and picked him back up again. “Hey! That wasn’t an invitation! Urgh, careful, I’m also a bit nauseous.”

“Warn me if you need to vomit,” she muttered. Remembering that he couldn’t hear, she mimed a person puking. At least her game of charades put a grin back on Claude’s face.

“Don’t worry. I’m not gonna spew. Probably. Maybe. You should just leave me here.”

She moved back to the bed, but not to set him down. With her hands occupied, she raised a talon to lift one of the pillows. Specifically, the pillow with the dagger that Claude liked to keep within arms length. She pointed to the dagger, then to his ears.

_ Claude couldn’t hear an enemy coming. _

She noted that, despite standing on one leg, her balance still felt perfect. Huh. Maybe she should follow in Claude’s footsteps(hoofsteps?) and experiment with that in the future. 

“Ugh. _ Fine. _ You win this round. Let’s go find Dimitri.”

She didn’t inform him that she was taking him to the infirmary.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


_ ‘You always mess everything up. You’re a fool to think that could change.’ _

_ ‘They’ll be better off without you. You should leave. You hurt everyone you love.’ _

“I know,” he whispered back. “I know, I’m sorry…”

_ ‘Seek _ justice, _ beast. That is the only path to salvation. That is the only ‘apology’ you can give. Give us revenge, give them revenge, give us all the revenge we seek…’ _

He continued to scrape his claws against the wall, chunks of stone falling loose. It was somewhat painful. He deserved the pain.

The buzzing in his head was as endless as the voices. It rose in cresting waves, deafening him before fading into the background of screams. His head felt ready to burst. He chomped down at a clump of fur, tugging it off. He compulsively licked at the sore spot of missing fur, moving to aggressively groom and bite at another spot.

He wasn’t tired. He was aware of his behavior. How he despised himself for giving in to such base actions. 

_ ‘A beast. Nothing but a beast.’ _

Over and over El’s fearful eyes replayed in his mind. _ He _ terrified her. _ He _ scared her. She hated him. He _ deserved _ to be hated.

How many times must he learn his lesson? He was incapable of changing his actions. All the effort El and Claude were wasting in an attempt to keep him human would better be spent on anything else.

Tucked into the shadows of a lonely corner of the monastery, he was hidden. He should climb the walls and leave. Everyone would be better off without him. But selfishly, he couldn’t bring himself to take that last step. Instead, he tore at the old stone wall.

  
  
  


He heard footsteps approaching his hiding spot. A low growl built in the back of his throat. He gnawed at another spot of fur.

The footsteps stopped. _ Good. _ He returned to tearing up the stone with his claws. 

“Your Highness.”

He hunched his shoulders, shying away from the concerned voice. He didn’t want to be seen like this.

“May I approach you, Your Highness?”

A low rumble came from his throat as he shook his head side to side.

“Very well.” Dedue did not approach, but he did not leave either. 

“You may leave.” He forced himself to speak as a man might, rather than the beast he was. A smell of fresh soil and a familiar but indescribable scent drifted to him on the wind. “Do not force me to keep you from your gardening.”

“I shall stay.”

Another growl unwillingly built. 

“I shall remain by your side and lend my aid however I am able.”

_ ‘He thinks of you as a blessed creature like the others do. You have deceived him. Is this what has become of my son? A dishonorable layabout?’ _

_ ‘Pah, the beast knows no one would stand by his side if they knew the full truth.’ _

“Come closer,” he whispered. Dedue did not hesitate, kneeling at his side. “You know of my lies. This beastly form is no blessing from the Goddess. This is a curse from an evil _ creature _ that saw fit to warp my humanity. I am tainted. Dangerous.” He opened his twisted hands, crumbles of rock and blood spattering the raised pads. The three of them had told Dedue and Hilda a great deal of the deception, but did Dedue fully understand? _ No, _if Dedue understood, he would want nothing to do with Dimitri.

“You are still the man I respect, Your Highness.”

He bared his teeth to the ground. “How can you say that?! I have _ lied _ to everyone! I know of the organization that led to the slaughter of my family, of your people, and I have done _ nothing. _ I have allowed them to twist my body, to twist El and Claude as well. I deserve _ hatred _ and _ revulsion!” _ He tugged at the fur of his mane, ripping out large chunks.

Dedue’s warm hand rested on his own. “Please do not harm yourself. I shall never hate you, nor shall I ever be revolted by you.”

He whirled on Dedue. “Why do you not demand retribution from me?! Destruction is all I am capable of now.” He snatched Dedue’s hands. “Look at me! I am no longer able to retain my bearings as a person, dissolving into these beastly urges. I am no longer the man you pledged yourself to!” He was unable to continue as his human speech devolved into uncontrollable growls.

“That is false,” Dedue calmly stated. “You will always be the man that saved my life. That will not and can not change. I have failed in my duties if you believe I would abandon my loyalty to you.”

“I have no honor,” he gasped. “I am a liar, a fraud, a—”

“You are Prince Dimitri. You are my liege. You are a good man.”

“I am not Goddess blessed. People look at me as a coming saint, but my very existence is sacrilege!” 

“I do not care whether you were blessed or not, Your Highness. A lie for your safety is a small price to pay. I do not think less of you for it.”

Dimitri swung his head side to side. “You do not understand what I am capable of now. I hurt El. Two days ago, I hurt Claude. I hurt all those around me. You would do well to distance yourself from me.”

“My life is yours. Should you hurt me, I will not hold it against you.”

Dimitri froze, his cursed mind stuck on Dedue’s words. Specifically, Dedue claiming to be _ Dimitri’s. _ Dedue had told him that in many different variations over the years— but never had he evoked such a reaction from Dimitri. Specifically, that very same lion of possessiveness roared within him, that lion he hated so fervently.

He squeezed his eyes shut, grinding his teeth together. Dedue was _ his? _ Dedue _ was _ his. Dedue was under _ his _ protection. Dedue was _ his. _

Minutes later he snapped back to himself. He was clutching Dedue tightly, possibly tight enough to bruise. He was furiously rubbing his cheek against Dedue. Judging by how strongly Dedue smelled of Dimitri now, he’d been doing so for minutes. 

He pulled his head back, his body warring between flinging himself from Dedue and returning to nuzzle him more. “Do you see what I mean?!” He cried, shame and shame and shame mounting. “I have no control, no discipline! I am the same beast as the one Felix sees in me, the very same that ravaged the battlefield in my maiden battle.” So many called his new features ‘cute’ and ‘cat-like’ but they did not know the _ true _ him.

“To compare your current actions with your battlefield instincts are incompatible, Your Highness. I do not begrudge you this, and though I may not understand it, I know you are a good man. You are still adjusting and will continue to do so.”

He whimpered, tucking his face against Dedue’s neck and nuzzling again. “I hate this,” he whispered. “I am at the mercy of my demons.” Dedue was uncomfortable, he could _ feel _ it, yet he could not find it in himself to move. _ Selfish, horrible, wretched… _

Hesitantly, Dedue patted his mane. A chuff startled both of them, emboldening Dedue to continue. “You are strong. You will move past this. And I will remain by your side.”

“I do not deserve you.” Those hisses of _ mine, mine, mine _ rose in his head, above the buzz of his ears and the ghosts clamoring in the background. “You are too good of a friend to me.” Before Dedue could argue, as he _ knew _ the man would, he pressed on. “Please Dedue, I know you do not believe you can both be my friend and my vassal. I’m forever grateful to you for all you do for me. Whether or not you view me as a friend, know that I view _ you _ as my friend.” 

“But…”

“In the spirit of being honest… while I may not fully understand the actions I am compelled to take, I have only ever, ahem… ‘n-nuzzled’ El and Claude like this. You are important to me.”

* * *

_ ‘Traitor,’ _ Claude mouthed to El. She rolled her eyes. They were _ supposed _ to be looking for Dimitri. 

Manuela was looking over his ears, twisting and turning the cartilage. Eventually she stopped prodding his ears. The healer turned to El and began talking. He watched as El’s expression fell into a hard line. _ Bad news. _ Just great.

“Deer ears can’t be _ that _ different from human ears. You seriously can’t heal them?” Speaking felt so strange without being able to hear himself.

Manuela shook her head. 

“Well, it’s not the end of the world. How long before they heal naturally?”

Manuela grimaced. She held up two fingers.

“Two days…?” She wouldn’t be grimacing so much in that case. Sure enough, she shook her head. “Two weeks, then?” She shook her head again. “Two months…?” _ Please say yes, please don’t say two years. _

Manuela nodded. _ Two months?! _ He couldn’t go without hearing for two whole months!

He tried to look at the positives. El could let loose a screech so loud it ruptured eardrums (or _ his _ eardrums, at least.) That could be useful. Definitely something to look into. From a distance, of course.

El began speaking, her expression determined. The two of them began discussing something that Claude had no way to contribute to. 

Manuela snapped her fingers, lighting up. She nodded twice. El didn’t look half as pleased, but gave a slow nod nonetheless. Manuela pointed to him, said a few more words, and then left.

“Alright, let’s get out of here.” Before he could even stumble to his hooves, El planted a firm hand on his back. “Remember _ Dimitri? _ We need to go find him. And I know you won’t be satisfied leaving me alone. So: the two of us are leaving. Let’s go.”

Her feathers ruffled, but she shook her head. She patted his back again, firmly preventing him from standing. 

“You look uneasy.” He gestured to some paper and ink laying on Manuela’s desk. “Let’s drop the charades already.”

She pinned him with a glare. Very slowly, she mouthed _ ‘Stay. Put.’ _ She gestured emphatically to the bed. 

He shook his head, then regretted the action. “I’m too dizzy to make a break for it anyways. Paper and quill, start writing.”

She complied. With a few succinct strokes, she wrote out her message. Presenting it to Claude, he felt his stomach sink.

_ ‘Manuela is bringing the archbishop.’ _

“Aw shit. Better than being deaf for two months, I guess.” As little as he wanted Rhea healing him, she _ better _ be able to heal deer ears.

El’s neck twisted to look at the door. Claude silently cursed. _ That was fast. _ He did _ not _ want to see Rhea. Especially not when Dimitri was…

Oh. Dimitri sulked into the infirmary, being tugged along by Dedue. He watched Dimitri jolt in surprise as he looked up, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood. He backpedaled away from El.

“It was a simple misunderstanding,” Claude tried to ease the tension. “Turn that guilty-face upside down into a not-guilty-face. We made a mistake — lesson learned.”

His words were enough to keep Dimitri from retreating out of the room. Dedue squeezed Dimitri’s shoulder, speaking to him. Slowly Dimitri nodded. Dedue bowed and left.

Dimitri turned to El and bowed deeply, spewing out apologies. El heaved a long sigh but her frustration visibly melted away. She patted his shoulder, gesturing for him to stand. She made a few sharp gestures before she softened.

Dimitri tried for a pathetic smile — but at least he tried. Still guilty, but trying to put it behind him. Dimitri turned to Claude, cocking his head. He gestured to his ears, speaking silent words at Claude.

“Yeah, I’m in the same boat as you.” Clearly not, given Dimitri could apparently hear. He patted the cott he laid on. “C’mere. I’ll take a look at your fingers. Those should be bandaged.” His _ bloody _ fingers. Just as he’d worried, it seemed Dimitri indulged in his self-destructive habits. “Did you tear through another room?”

Dimitri fixed him with a miserable glare, shaking his head. He mumbled something that had El responding. The two talked for a bit. Dimitri turned back to Claude, asking him a question.

He waved a hand. “Don’t worry about me.”

Judging by Dimitri’s small smile, that was the correct response. El slapped a hand over her forehead, opening her mouth.

“Don’t go tattling! I want to see how long I can go.” At Dimitri’s confused expression, he elaborated. “Ugh, fine. See Dimitri…” He went on to distract Dimitri, going on unrelated tangents. He led with plenty of yes or no questions, not giving Dimitri a chance to reply beyond easily interpreted snippets.

It took a very long time before Dimitri figured it out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why did no one else hear Edelgard's ear-shattering screech? Er, I only thought of this just now. No one was in the dorms at the time, and everyone mistook her shriek for a bird. Let's go with that
> 
> Next chapter: Rhea's unorthodox healing session


	20. Luring Children into the Basement (to totally NOT murder them, for sure)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhea's disturbing basement that she lures children into, Claude gets his hearing back, Hannexposition, and bird-life crisis + doubts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !Warning for Graphic Gore in this chapter!  
If you want to skip, in the second section it begins roughly at “And it was tugging at him.” and ends at “"What… was that…?” El croaked.”

**Friday, 9th of Harpstring Moon**

**(Afternoon)**

It was a struggle not to fidget with Rhea so close. Eventually she pulled away, her expression pitying. She reached out to stroke the shell of his ear, her lips pursed in thought. Perhaps it was a mercy that he couldn’t hear her coo at him. 

At least Dimitri was glued to his side. When Manuela returned with Rhea in tow and found an injured Dimitri, she immediately set to pushing him into a cott and fussing over him. Obviously the two of them weren’t content to be in separate beds. This drove a comment from Manuela that left Dimitri blushing and a too-soft smile from Rhea. El, as the uninjured member of their group, took to pacing the room.

Conversation ping-ponged between Rhea, Manuela, El, and occasionally from Dimitri. At some point Hanneman entered and started adding his own thoughts. Claude hated being left out of the loop. He also hated the fact that Rhea had yet to leave his side, stroking his ear with one hand and petting down his back with her other. He was bracketed between her and Dimitri. She sat too close to him. If he was a normal student, Rhea’s behaviour would be _ grossly _ inappropriate, but apparently strict rules about touching didn’t apply to fur.

At least Dimitri’s arm was slung around his waist. That was much better.

The longer the five of them discussed what to do, the deeper his dizziness permeated. His nausea was manageable, but he found himself beginning to sway sitting up. He leaned against Dimitri for support, but it wasn’t enough.

Rhea noticed.

She stopped petting his ear, instead tucking a hand under his chin. She murmured something to him. Then she leaned back a bit and patted her lap.

Claude was blindsided by the sheer _ audacity _ of the suggestion. Rhea surely wasn’t suggesting he get on her lap, right? Right? That was insane. She was the archbishop. Yes, she was very touchy, but—

Evidently she took his silence as him not understanding. She guided his shoulder. He was too shocked to put up a fight as Rhea gently laid his head in her lap. Then she was back to stroking his ear and carding her fingers through his hair. 

Dimitri was tense. He made a few aborted gestures. Rhea smiled and leaned over him to clasp Dimitri’s hands. She spoke what were probably soothing words then rested Dimitri’s hands on his back. At her urging, Dimitri began petting down his back (which devolved into kneading).

“I can sit up.” He finally found his tongue. “I’m fine, just a slight headache. And the lack of hearing, of course.”

But Rhea didn’t allow him back up. Instead, her hands shifted from his hair and began to massage his temples. Whatever she was doing, it was magic (probably literally). The pain in his head reduced to nearly nothing and it took all of his willpower not to melt into Rhea’s careful massage.

Things got hazy from there.

At some point it occurred to him he drifted off. The buzzing was still constant and he still couldn’t hear, but most of the pain and nausea was gone. He felt lightheaded and drowsy. Glancing up, he saw he was still in Rhea’s lap. Slumped halfway on top of him, Dimitri had also nodded off. Rhea was running her hands through Dimitri’s hair, just like she did for him.

There was a cloistering desire to drift back to sleep. But as his eyes landed on El reality snapped back to him. El sat on the foot of the bed, knees tucked into her chest. She was staring at Rhea with a disinterested expression, the sort she wore to hide her true feelings. Sluggishly his brain reminded him that sleeping on Rhea’s lap was _ not _ normal, nor was it _ anything _ he wanted to partake in.

He tried to pull himself up. This caught Rhea’s eye. She looked down at him and smiled, ruffling his hair. 

He cleared his throat. “How long was I out for?”

El scribbled on a piece of paper. _ ‘30 minutes’ _ was written at the top. There was more pre-written on the paper. _ ‘Lady Rhea’s spell only helps with the pain. In order to heal you, you will trigger your crest.’ _

He hummed. So that was why they brought Hanneman in. “Not a half bad plan. My crest should know what’s up with my biology.” _ Hopefully. _ “But I need a living target for it to work.”

Rhea patted him again, giving him silent reassurance. 

* * *

“I have so many questions.” Questions he couldn’t ask until he had his hearing back. What powered the strange mechanism that lowered them into the basement? Why was there a giant basement under Garreg Mach? Were there other weird places buried under the monastery? Why bring them here?

That last question he had an answer for. Rhea brought him to a… thing. A training dummy? _ Creature? _ There was a _ thing _ that Rhea presented him with. It made him think of a skeleton wrapped in metal, but even that wasn’t fully accurate. He prodded the person-sized thing. It didn’t respond. He recognized the somewhat metallic texture as Rhea’s ‘artificial flesh’ from their healing lessons. Was this an artificial creature, then? He wasn’t sure how he felt about such a concept. 

He watched her chatter silently to Dimitri and El, no doubt explaining things that Claude very much wanted to know. “Is this thing alive?” he asked. Rhea shook her head _ no. _ “But it’ll let me activate my crest?” She nodded _ yes. _

He _ did _ need his hearing back. As uneasy as it made him feel, he didn’t have another option. Whatever it was, it didn’t _ look _ alive. It was like a metal scarecrow. No room for organs aside from _maybe_ in the 'ribcage.'

Claude stabbed into the… _ thing’s _ ribs. His dagger slid into the material with a meaty _ squelch _ feeling. He nearly gagged at the oily black substance oozing out. He flinched as the metallic, sooty, bloody smell struck him. He grimaced and kept going. Each stab left him feeling more and more uneasy. _ Why _did Rhea have this stuff? What was it really? Where did it come from? Why— 

His vision sharpened as a surge of energy rushed through him. Sudden and overwhelming anger seized his thoughts, tunneling all of his focus on the _ thing _ before him. Not anger. _ Righteous rage _ was the only proper word for it.

He snarled a silent sound. He couldn’t stop himself even if he wanted. The dagger in his grip, already mid-swing, dropped. Instinct took over as he lowered his head and lunged. _Real_ heat flooded through him as the meaty material yielded to his antlers. His crest usually felt like a warmth trickling through him. _Now_ it was a roaring torrent. His body internally lit on fire, but it didn’t hurt. It didn’t burn. His insides felt _hot_ and _melty_ and _good._ _He _felt good.

The first sound his restored hearing graced him with was the sound of metal slamming against stone. The snarl on his lips vanished as quickly as it came, the rage likewise dissipating. His jaw dropped. The ruined metal thing was flung away from him, forming a small crater _ into _ the ground. It was the sort of result he expected from Dimitri, not from him.Lifting a forehoof, he was further shocked to see that his front hooves left tiny craters of their own. Black blood dripped from his antlers.

His crest didn’t grant him extra strength or power. But that was exactly what just happened.

“What…” he was interrupted by Dimitri’s echoing yowl. Mane puffed up, Dimitri crashed into the remains of the metallic _ thing. _ His Crest of Blaiddyd was almost blinding in brightness. Dimitri tore the remains of the metallic meat to shreds, ravaging it into a pulp with his claws and teeth.

Over the sound of Dimitri, he heard El. She was gasping for breath. She doubled over on the ground, her Crest of Seiros just as blinding as Dimitri’s. Her wings flared. The giant feathery weapons slammed down in front of her, exploding the solid stone floor under the strength of them. He raised his arms to shield himself from showering pebbles.

Silence fell, filled only with panting gasps. 

So caught up with Dimitri and El, he failed to notice that his crest wasn’t finished burning inside of him. The light was gone, but he could still feel the after effects. With his minor crest, he used to have a grace time of half a minute that his crest continued to heal him after the glowing symbol faded. It had been a faint buzzing feeling in his limbs back then.

This wasn’t faint. This was more than buzzing. This was a bonfire. He was on fire, and it felt so good. This would last much longer, he was certain.

And it was tugging at him.

He was moving. His eyes flew wide as he noticed his involuntary clicking steps. He stumbled forward, helpless to follow the pull blazing inside of him.

He collapsed against El and Dimitri, pressing up against them as much as possible. They did the same. He couldn’t do anything but mindlessly follow the bonfire tugging, demanding something that went beyond mind or body.

Dimitri and El clutched bruises into his skin. He was probably doing the same, holding onto them like his life depended on it. Maybe his life did. Every point of contact was a blazing fire of _ yes, right, correct, closer, closer, _ ** _closer._ ** El’s wings squeezed him closer, making it impossible to pull in a deep breath. The more force they clutched him with, the more his body healed him. The more his body healed him, the hotter his blood burned. The hotter his blood burned, the more desperately he _ needed _ to be ** _closer._ **

He bit down into El’s shoulder as the intensity grew. Dimitri wasn’t bruising him anymore — his claws were fully out, sheathed in his and El’s arms. There was no warning as Dimitri copied him: sinking his considerable fangs past the bone of Claude’s shoulder. On his other side, he heard more than felt the snap as El’s grip broke his arm. He tasted El’s blood as he bit down harder.

It didn’t hurt. Not in the way it should. If anything, the war between El’s strength snapping his bones and his blazing healing pulling them back together was _ pleasurable. _ The hot sparks around Dimitri’s claws and fangs felt _ wonderful. _ As Dimitri worked his fangs deeper past bone, it felt _ right. _

He gasped as Dimitri removed his claws. Those claws traveled lower, digging into his side, then his back, and finally sinking deep into his flank. Dimitri was rough in trying to pull Claude’s long back-half closer, raking deep scores up and down his body. He struggled to curl himself closer as the wounds healed within seconds. His wounds sealed up as quickly as Dimitri made them. For all the deep lines and chunks that Dimitri tore through his hide, a blazing seam sewed everything back to as it should be. 

El’s wings squeezed impossibly tight, his ribs snapping and healing and snapping and healing on repeat. The three of them were squeezed so tightly together, but it wasn’t _ enough. _ Even as his shoulder crunched against the force of Dimitri’s bite, it wasn’t _ enough. _ He wanted Dimitri to bury his claws inside of him, to dig his hand _ into _him. He wanted El’s wings to press into his own back and find a home within himself. He wanted to burrow into them, to gnaw his way into El’s neck, to push his broken shoulder down Dimitri’s throat.

His thoughts turned to mutilating his back’s bone structure so as to better press against the other two when the intensity finally began to wane. El’s grip weakened to be merely tight and his bone knit back to what it should be. He pulled back from his bite, spitting out a chunk of flesh on the ground before pressing his cheek into El’s. Dimitri stopped ripping out chunks of flesh from his back, his bite relaxing. Eventually Dimitri removed his teeth entirely. Claude groaned as the fire inside of him snapped his bones back into place, regrowing the damage.

Even as the intensity lessened, he couldn’t let go of them. He still clutched them just as desperately as they clutched him. He stared at the bloody mess he left against El’s neck. The chunk he tore out slowly regrew. Slower than his healing but still unnaturally fast.

They were covered in each other’s blood. His back was drenched with his own blood, underbelly likewise uncomfortably soaked. Dimitri’s claws and mouth dripped red. Remnants of the oily blood clung to him too, and Claude hoped his healing factor meant his body wouldn’t have any side-effect from Dimitri clawing that stuff into him. El was the cleanest of them and even she was covered. Blood on her mouth, her shoulder and neck, up and down her mostly-healed arm, and on her clothes from Claude’s excess blood. Braving a peek at his deer-back, he couldn’t see his brown fur beneath the blood. Meaty chunks of his hide and flesh littered the ground. It didn’t look real.

“What… was that…?” El croaked some minutes later as the heat was dying into simmering embers.

“What a true blessing…” As one the three of them jolted at Rhea’s reverent tone. He cursed himself for forgetting about her. Rhea was close, only a few feet away from them. She was ecstatic. Her smile seemed to stretch past what a human face should allow. He tried to squeeze himself closer to El and Dimitri despite the impossibility of getting any closer. “A miracle, beyond my wildest hopes…”

“What… do you… mean?” Dimitri panted, still breathing heavily. They all were. El’s wings had barely let up in squeezing them together.

Rhea knelt before them. “Oh, my dear children. The Goddess loves you so _ very _ much.” She spread her arms wide. Unwillingly, Claude found himself drawn toward her. The others did as well. They fell against her, still clutching each other. His cheek smeared El’s blood on Rhea’s white robe. El’s wings reacted, inviting the archbishop into their shared embrace. _ She didn’t mean to do that, her wings reacted on their own, she didn’t want— _

“I don’t understand,” Claude choked out. Beneath the heady fire still churning in his gut, he felt afraid and confused and lost. And he _ felt _ that Dimitri and El felt the same. 

“Shh, all is well. Feel no fear, for this is by the Goddess’ design. She has graced you three with such a beloved blessing.”

“I don’t want to let go.” Dimitri tightened his hold ever so slightly. “I — I _ can’t _ let go.”

“Shh, shh. It will pass. I know this is new and frightening, but all shall be revealed soon.”

“Start revealing _ now,” _ both Claude and El snapped at the same time. They shared a glance and he felt another wave of woozy confusion.

Rhea softly laughed. “Those who share a crest are drawn to one another. It is a subtle thing. A crest senses kinship within another. My dear Edelgard, have you ever felt a closeness with me inexplicably? A trust that you unexpectedly found in your heart?”

She swallowed. “Perhaps something like that.”

“Indeed. That is from our blood resonating. Your crest recognizes mine, and through that there is an innate trust that one shall not harm oneself.”

_ ‘That’s terrifying,’ _ Claude thought, the thought echoing in his head in El’s voice. 

“One’s soul is tied to their crest. When the Goddess blessed you three, she did not merely bolster your crest. She bolstered your very spirits. Your souls.” Rhea smoothed a kiss against El’s forehead, then proceeded to do the same for him and Dimitri. Oily black blood dripped from his antlers onto her cheek, but she didn’t seem to notice. “The Goddess entwined you three beyond that of mortal bonds. I see now: She has gifted you three a piece of each other’s crest, and in turn has imparted a piece of your soul to one another. She has _ melded _ your crests into something new and unique.”

Crests being tied to one’s soul? That couldn’t be. 

“No matter what, you three will always support one another. And so: as dear Claude activated his crest, the small portion residing within you two also activated. This too activated your own crests, in turn activating what resides of your crests in Claude.”

Claude squeezed his eyes shut, still helpless against the _ need _ to be close to the other two. “And now our crests are trying to merge back together, but can’t.”

“Very astute, well done.” She smoothed back his hair, her hand smearing with inky black. _ “Very _ well done, my smart little deer.”

“When will this end?” Dimitri asked, bordering on pleading. He was terrified of crushing Claude and El with how strong he desired to clutch them. Claude blinked rapidly at the certainty of that. This close, feeling this raw, he _ desperately _ hoped his mind was making logical leaps and nothing more.

“Fear not, it will lessen. I shall be here to help you through this.” Claude nearly went cross eyed with how loudly he **did not want that.** “We will need to add crest training to your schedules. Given more time and practice, your souls will grow to understand that they reside where the Goddess wills. Ah, but for now… try to relax. All is well, my dear children, all is well…”

Rhea began humming. Then she sang.

_ “In time’s flow… see the glowing flames ever burning bright…” _

He didn’t relax. Like a smothering blanket, he began to falter. Panic simmered below his drooping eyelids. If Rhea was telling the truth, even partially, that meant he and Dimitri possessed fragments of a Crest of Seiros. 

Rhea didn’t just have _ a _ Crest of Seiros.

_ “On a swift river’s drift, broken memories alight…” _

Rhea was Saint Seiros herself.

He was helpless only to clutch El and Dimitri as he fell asleep, frighteningly safe and tenderly terrified.

* * *

**Friday, 9th of Harpstring Moon**

**(Night)  
  
**

“Crests being tied to the _ soul? _ What imbecile told you _ that _ nonsense? Crests are tied to blood, yes, but there is absolutely no evidence pointing towards being tied to one’s _ soul! _ Nevermind the unquantifiable details of a soul — that is unimportant! A crest is measurable. It is tangible, just as all biology is!”

Dimitri eyed Hanneman as one might eye a distant but looming storm. “You’re certain of this?”

_ “Yes _I’m certain! Were a crest tied to the soul, how might you explain their inheritability? Bah! Do not go around believing whatever uninformed nonsense you hear. Who told you this? Why, I have quite the lecture to give them!”

Dimitri cleared his throat. “Ah… Lady Rhea…”

Hanneman’s indignation melted into a weak grimace. “I. I see. Ahem. I suppose if it comes from the archbishop…” Hanneman turned his back on them, pacing a tight circle. “How can Lady Rhea think such utter nonsense? Yet I cannot directly contradict her… last time ended very poorly. But I cannot allow rampant _ falsehood _ to be taught!”

Claude cleared his throat. “We won’t mention it to her. We’re looking for a second opinion anyways. Don’t be afraid to speak your mind. It’s the truth we’re after.”

Hanneman jumped. “Ah. Yes. Yes! Such bright curious youths you three are. Ahem. My research does indeed point towards contradicting the archbishop.” Hanneman pulled out a diagram of a crest. “You see, crests are carried through the blood. It is something one must be born with…”

Hanneman began a long ramble about crests, blood, inheritability, and a lot of things. With the smell of blood still clinging to the inside of his nose, Dimitri didn’t want to hear more about blood. He tucked his face into the side of El’s wings, trying to ground himself. He still smelled blood. He smelled El, and Claude, and blood, and _ El and Claude’s blood. _

Hanneman continued on the ‘uniqueness’ of their altered crests. Dimitri didn’t care. He didn’t want his crest. Not when it made him hurt Claude and El. Not when it twisted him into more of a beast than he thought possible. He was disgusted with himself for _ mauling _ Claude during their ‘crest fit’. Were it not for his healing factor, Claude would be dead from blood loss if not worse. Dimitri had painted all three of them in blood, mostly Claude’s.

He tugged at the tight collar of his new outfit. He didn’t like it, for all that it was soft and comfortably tailored. Aside from the high collar, it was loose. It still managed to be stifling.

They hadn’t woken in the infirmary like he expected. They woke in Rhea’s _ bed _ of all places. The archbishop had them cleaned (personally, he presumed) and replaced their torn and bloody clothes. It was good that the archbishop had the foresight to order them multiple sets of clothes. 

_ “And disturbing that she commissioned us clothes that she kept to herself,” _ El had muttered.

It wasn’t a copy of their usual wear. Priest robes, specially tailored to them. Thick, flowing, entrapping robes. Light cream color with their respective azure, gold, and crimson highlights. The Blaiddyd crest adorning his outfit was to be expected, likewise with Claude’s Riegan and El’s Seiros. Less expected but not surprising was the embroidered Crest of Flame all over El’s outfit. Entirely unexpected were the matching Seiros symbols on him and Claude. Claude likened it to being claimed by Rhea. With his snug high collar that brazenly advertised Blaiddyd and Seiros equally, he couldn’t argue with the assessment. The outfits screamed _ Church of Seiros. _ They didn’t quite match Rhea’s robes, but the inspiration was clear.

All three of them wanted to go to their rooms and change _ immediately. _ But it was late and they needed to speak with Hanneman before the day was over. 

El cleared her throat. “We are aware of our unique position, thank you professor. We are here to confirm whether the archbishop’s claims of our crests being ‘shared’ is true or not. Can you do it?”

“Can I do it? Of course I can! I am the leading expert in Crestology! Hmph. I require a fresh sample of blood from you three. _ Can I do it, _ she asks me. Pah.”

Dimitri winced but complied. They all gave pricks of blood to Hanneman. Claude was forced to prick his finger three times before giving up and slashing open his palm. Despite their crests activating hours ago, he was still healing abnormally fast. Dimitri’s own scrape clotted and healed in a short period.

“Fascinating…” Dimitri puffed up, growling at the researcher. He was looking at Claude too intently. Hanneman took a step back, spreading his hands. “I was merely observing!”

Claude shook his already fully healed hand. “This is ridiculous. A good kind of ridiculous I guess. Professor Hanneman, can you determine how long this is going to last for me? That’d be useful.”

“I can certainly try… After I have examined your crests on a whole!” The professor ran the samples through his machine. Their three crests lit up the machine along with the Crest of Flame. _ Blue Blaiddyd, Blue Seiros, Gold Riegan, Gold Flames. _ Hanneman hummed, messing with dials and knobs. “We will start with young Dimitri’s Crest of Blaiddyd.” Hanneman turned a dial. The Crest of Flames vanished, the Crest of Riegan and Seiros both dimming into a faded bluish color.

Hanneman frowned. He continued to fiddle with his machine, but nothing changed to Dimitri’s eye. 

“Marvelous…” Hanneman gasped, staring at the crests. “Simply marvelous! I cannot _ believe _ I missed this before! If my hypothesis is correct…” He turned more dials. The Blaiddyd crest faded into a dull goldish blue to match the Seiros crest. Claude’s Riegan crest blazed a brilliant gold. “This proves it!” He flipped dials again, all three of their crests returning to their bright state, Crest of Flames returning. “I’ve never seen anything like it, but the archbishop is correct — you three share tiny portions of each other’s crests! Why, only one crest should show up at a time with the settings I used, but I couldn’t get any of your crests to vanish! Look here, along the edges! There is a tinge of gold behind the blue for Blaiddyd and Seiros, and a tint of blue behind Riegan! This is revolutionary!”

El cleared her throat. “What does this mean for us?”

“Hm? Oh! Apologies. What indeed! The archbishop informed me that all three activated at the same time — fascinating. Young Claude, you received increased strength and power, and young Dimitri, you received healing, yes?” Hanneman snatched Claude’s hand.

“Calm down, Dimitri,” Claude snapped. Dimitri blinked. _ Oh. _ He was growling at Hanneman, who (wisely) let go of Claude and backed up. Claude extended his hand for Hanneman to look at. Dimitri busied himself by clutching the rest of Claude (gently!) and keeping a close eye on the researcher. “The archbishop informed you of what happened?”

Hanneman barely seemed to notice Dimitri. “Yes, the basics. I _ must _ see your crests in action in the future!” _ When had Rhea visited Hanneman? _ While they slept, given they went to Hanneman first thing after Rhea released them. _ Why? _ “It is remarkable that you are still receiving benefits from your activated crest. The Crest of Riegan is known to sap a small portion of a target’s lifeforce, determined by how much damage was inflicted unto the target. Hm. How much damage did you inflict in order to receive such effective, long-lasting healing…?” _ Now _ Hanneman looked uncomfortable.

Claude shrugged. “I didn’t do that much, but I guess maybe I did more because of the strength up?”

Hanneman pulled away to stroke at his beard. “No, no… hm. One would need the equivalent of hundreds of human sacrifices to maintain rapid healing for such a long period.” Claude blanched. “Unless, of course, the properties of your crest have been altered. Far more likely. Perhaps… perhaps…” Hanneman’s eyes snapped away from Claude. “You two. Tell me, how much damage were you able to achieve?”

Dimitri hunched his shoulders at the foggy memory of mauling the artificial metal. Before he could say anything, El spoke. “Nothing. My wings struck stone and nothing more.”

Claude inhaled sharply. “But you healed too. Not as fast as me, and yet…”

“Now _ that _ is interesting. Perhaps a bleed through from the Riegan crest? Or something else…” Hanneman returned to the machine. “Perhaps only one of you need attack a living target for all three of you to receive benefit. Such a connection… the implications… If crests can receive energy despite being separated, then…”

El cleared her throat.

“Ahem! You three have given me very much to think on!”

Claude cleared his throat this time. “Any idea how long my crest will keep healing me…?”

“Right! Hm, I have a theory…” Hanneman turned some dials. All three of their crests dimmed and turned goldish. But the Crest of Flames remained vibrant. “Fascinating. All three of you have a small — or in young Edelgard’s case, large — portion of the Crest of Flame. Yet the crest itself is unaltered with spliced crests. Perhaps this is how your crests were strengthened and stabilized so thoroughly? Ah! With both a Major-Altered Crest of Riegan _ and _ the Crest of Flames, it is possible there is an… ‘echo chamber’ of sorts with healing energy. In fact, I posit that young Claude is bleeding off small amounts of healing energy into the both of you even now. Why, I haven’t the faintest clue how long it might last! Nor how it even works! This is entirely unrecorded territory for my research! You _ must _ inform me as soon as you notice the effects fade, it is vital for my research. Perhaps… is it possible? Inflicting even a small scratch upon a target and draining the tiniest amount of vitality may very well be enough to magnify into life-saving healing. I would love nothing more than to proceed with test trials of your crests!”

“Lady Rhea informed us we are not to use them without her strict supervision…” He knew the other two chafed at her ‘rule’ but Dimitri was grateful for the excuse. He never wanted to use his crest again. The one good thing to come out of their alterations was a firmer control over crest activation.

Hanneman’s excitement didn’t falter. “Ah, that’s correct, she informed me of that as well. A shame, but something to look forward to in the future! I have more than enough current data…”

“Professor, you are aware that you are supposed to be conducting an examination on us to ensure we will experience no undue side effects, _ yes?” _ El drolled. _ Claude’s idea. _ Rhea had been certain that all their side effects were ‘ordained by the Goddess’. They knew better.

“Yes, yes, you three are fine. Right as rain!”

“Is what Lady Rhea said true?” he demanded. “About crests attracting like crests?”

Hanneman blinked. “Ah. _ Ah. _ Dear Goddess, I hadn’t considered the effect.” He snapped his fingers. “Ah-hah! The spliced crests! Such an effect, the possibi—” Dimitri growled at the man to get back on topic. “R-right. Indeed there is something of a magnetism, though rarely more than faint pulls. For instance, I find myself feeling no urge to spend time with young Bernadetta, despite our shared Indech crest. Major crests have a stronger pull towards minor crests, but again, it is faint. An urge to be more friendly and trusting at most. But as for your spliced crests, I haven’t the faintest clue! I suppose you three must feel a pull on one another.”

They shared a glance. They were sitting together again. _ “Yeah. _ That’s one way to put it.”

_ Friendliness. Trust. _ Physical proximity and touch as well. _ Could their crests influence them beyond mere ‘friendliness?’ _

* * *

Dimitri clicked Claude’s door behind them. They shared an uneasy look. _ Finally alone._ Edelgard immediately started tugging at her suffocating robe.

“How do we get these off?” Claude muttered, tugging at his own ‘gifted’ robe. The front of his robe went down to his ankles with a slit for easy movement. His deer-back was draped in the loose cloth, leaving only his tail visible through a slit. Her and Dimitri’s robe _could_ be (though clearly weren't) altered church robes in the sense that they were mostly humanoid shaped. Claude’s could _ only _ be tailored specifically with his unique shape in mind.

“There’s a seam on your neck.” A _ barely _ visible seam. The robes were made very well, seamless in their appearance. She ran a finger down the back of his neck. Over a dozen tiny clasps meticulously bound the robe tight. 

As soon as she undid the last clasp, he hopped out of the robe (literally), shedding it in a heap on the ground. He kicked it with a hoof. “This is weird, right? I can’t be the only one to think that. Rhea _ undressed _ us.”

“Disturbing is more accurate,” she muttered. “Don’t just stand there, return the favor already!”

“I was going to put on my nightclothes first, but if you insist on this naked deer helping you out of your clothes…” 

“You say that like you aren’t half-naked all the time. Your chest is nothing special, just get me out of these damned robes.”

“Yeowch, hitting a fella where it hurts.” Claude took his time fussing the thing off of her. Apparently the seam on her robe was just as hidden as on Claude’s, not helped by her wings getting in the way. 

_ Finally _ the robe fell loose around her. She threw it off of herself, wrapping her arms and wings around her and slumping to the floor. “I refuse to wear that ever again.”

“Rhea may not give us a choice,” Claude murmured, patting her feathers. “Dimitri, let me help you get that off…”

She rubbed her hands up and down her arms. She _ smelled _ like Rhea now. Her nose wasn’t even sensitive like Dimitri’s, but she smelled it. Her skin crawled. She wanted a bath so bad. Rhea’s phantom touch refused to let go of her skin. She rubbed the small feathers on her chest. They didn’t itch. _ They had been preened. _ Rhea _ preened _ her while she slept. Rage and disgust roared through her. She despised that woman. What else did Rhea do to them while they slept? 

She wasted no time dressing as soon as Claude tossed her nightclothes at her. She curled up in her nest, hunching her wings around herself. Dimitri sat at Claude’s desk and Claude laid on the carpet. There was a tension between them.

_ (She wanted them to be close again.) _

“I’m sorry,” Dimitri predictably began with. He stared down at his hands, flexing his claws in and out. They were clean. “I’m so sorry, both of you.”

She scoffed. “We all hurt each other, you were just best equipped. Don’t bother apologizing.”

“Still…”

“You’re forgiven, blah blah, moving on. Don’t know about you two, but for me it didn’t hurt at all.”

“It wasn’t painless,” she said, “but it wasn’t half as bad as it should have been.”

Claude blinked in surprise. “Really now? Huh. It’s a good thing I took the most damage then. Sorry about your shoulder, by the way.”

“And I apologize for breaking your arm.”

“Guess I don’t need to worry about breaking my leg and being permanently crippled now.”

Dimitri dropped his head into his hands. “I’m _ so _ sorry. Claude, your back…”

Claude rolled over to present his back. “Not even a faint scar. None of us were in control.”

“And Rhea’s going to make us _ practice _ with this.”

Claude glanced at her, shrugging. “I hate to admit it, but it’s necessary. Imagine if one of us accidently pops off our crests in public. We can’t afford to maul each other around others. _ That _ would destroy our image as ‘Goddess Chosen’ instantly.”

“What if practice only makes it stronger? I _ can’t _do that ever again. I would have killed you both. I can still feel your blood on my hands… I can still smell it…”

She ached to comfort Dimitri. To hug him. _ But that was her crest speaking, nothing more. _

Claude got up. Not to comfort Dimitri, instead to collect a drawstring bag out of one of his drawers. He tossed the little bag and settled back onto the floor. “Incense leaves. Should help your nose. If not, I’ve got some rousing salts too, but you only want something that strong as a last resort.”

“It smells like you…” His shoulders drooped. “Thank you.” He buried his face against the bag, squeezing his eyes shut.

Awkward silence. 

She was sick of this. “Enough dodging the issue. Our crests are spliced together.”

“It doesn’t change anything.” Dimitri shook his head, shaking off some of his stupor.

“How can you say that?” she shot back. “The three of us don’t _ truly _ care for one another. Our bond is fake. Our clinginess, our trust in one another, our closeness — it’s all fake.”

Claude tutted. “I wouldn’t go that far. If this pull towards the both of you vanished, I’d still care. How we feel isn’t fake. We’re just ‘influenced’ is all.”

“We’re powerless against it! We’re chained together. I didn’t _ choose _ to care about either of you!”

Dimitri’s ears went flat. “Is it such a horrible thing?”

Claude smiled. “Hey, getting upset won’t help any of us. I’m not any happier about this loss of freedom than you are, Princess.”

She flinched. Claude hadn’t called her ‘princess’ since their time in the cell. She narrowed her eyes at him, tilting her head to look down at him. “You have no _ right _ to tell me I cannot feel upset, _ Riegan. _ But I suppose this is only a good thing in your books. Dimitri and I are compelled to keep you safe, no matter what harm that might bring to ourselves.”

Claude’s expression never changed. “You say that like I’m not willing to put my neck out for both of you too. I’m not saying you can’t feel upset about this — but it is what it is. We’re stuck with it. I’m just saying out of all the potential curses out there, this one isn’t so bad.”

She sneered. “Being stripped of our free will ‘isn’t so bad’ in your book? I shudder to think of what you find worse.”

“Dying.”

_ “Losing your legs _ was better than dying, but you weren’t smiling then.”

Claude heaved a sigh, still smiling his _infuriating_ grin. “Think of it this way: this is just a fast-track of what was always possible. We’re not stripped of our free will here! Look at us! We’re fighting each other right now!” _And yet she didn’t _want_ to fight them. She wanted to hug them. She wanted them close. But _**she** _wasn’t the one that wanted it, it was all her damned crest._

“You _ really _ think we would’ve felt so close in other circumstances? Please. Had we never been captured, you would be nothing but a bother to me.” _ Providing they even survived her attempt to kill them. _

“El…”

“I don’t want to hear it, Dimitri! Those _ monsters _ have dictated everything about me for years! Just when I thought I might finally be free from their influence, we learn about this! And you two have the _ gall _ to be happy about it!”

Claude barked a sharp laugh. “I might be smiling, but I’m not happy about this revelation. You should know me at least _ that _ well by now. You think I’m _ happy _ to learn that our connection is artificial? That the only two people I’ve come to trust and, hell, _ love _ like family are only that way because we’re forced into it? It is what it is Edelgard. We have to rely on each other. At least this way we get along.”

Dimitri dug his claws into the chair. “My feelings are _ real. _ It’s not artificial.”

He shrugged. “I agree that it all feels convincing. I don’t exactly have anything to compare it to, though.” _ None of them did. _

Silence.

Claude picked up his dagger and stabbed his finger. “I think it’s starting to slow down. Maybe.” He whipped the bead of blood away and not a spec replaced it.

“You said that the last five times you tested it.”

He shrugged. “That’s what the maybe is for. I haven’t been able to feel the crest for hours, but it’s still working away. I wonder… meh, nevermind.”

“I see how it is. You don’t trust us enough to even speak your mind anymore.”

“El! Don’t say that!”

“Who’s to say I even have anything on my mind? My brain’s burnt out. Too much to think about, can’t think about anything.”

“And now you’re lying to us. You’re a hypocrite.”

“It’s human nature to be a hypocrite.” He sprawled out, resting his cheek on the carpet. “Stop making things difficult for all of us. The three of us are in this together whether we want it or artificially want it.”

“You don’t get it!” She burst out of the bed, towering over him. “If Those Who Slither managed _ this _ much, what else have they done to our minds? What else aren’t we even aware of? All three of us are compromised!”

He stared up at her with half-lidded eyes and his stupid fake smile. “Oh, I see. You’re having the freak-out that me and Dimitri already had. We’ve _ been _ compromised this entire time. I’m flighty like a deer. Dimitri’s protective like a lion. What about you, hm?”

“I am _ myself! _ I make my _ own _ choices. I am no one’s puppet!”

“Like a bird, you need to be free. That’s it, isn’t it.”

“That has nothing to do with being a bird!” She finally succeeded in tearing down Claude’s fake smile as he flinched, covering his ears. She didn’t feel any satisfaction. She swallowed hard. She didn’t let out a shriek like before, but her voice was loud and… sharp. Twisted. Not entirely human. She unclenched her fists and lowered her wings. She hadn’t noticed that she hooded them above her, brushing the ceiling. Her wings couldn’t even fully unfurl in the small room. She turned her back to him and returned to her nest. She hugged her knees to her chest and faced the wall.

Maybe Claude was right. Had she chafed so heavily under Those Who Slither before her changes? She hated them and she hated being forced to recieve their aid. But her Flame Emperor costume hadn’t felt like a prison. It had been _ her _ choice. _ She _ was going to plunge Fódlan into war for her own reasons. But it hadn’t been a real choice. Just the best option out of a hundred worse ones. She’d had agency, but not much. She’d been on a leash, and she pretended the slack they gave her was freedom.

Now she had a longer leash, a looser one, and it chafed so much worse. Merely being _ influenced _ felt suffocating. She didn’t want Claude to be right. Was her mind just as altered as Dimitri’s without her notice? How compromised was she? If she couldn’t trust herself, what could she trust?

“This isn’t because I’m part lion,” Dimitri murmured as he joined her nest. “This isn’t because of our crests calling out to one another,” he continued, hugging her. “This isn’t because I’m forced to care about you,” he whispered as he held her. “This is because you’re my sister, El. I care about you because you’re my family.”

She wilted against him. “You can’t _ know _ if that’s why.”

“I can and I do.”

“You _ really _ think we would be here, in the same bed, had we not been altered?”

“No, we wouldn’t. I was afraid back then, too cowardly to approach you. You hardly seemed to recognize me when we first met as house-leaders. Even if we did reconnect, I doubt we’d be close like we are now.”

“So you admit it.”

“Being captured was more than just the experiments, El. I’m not here right now because my lion-brain is telling me. I detest what was done to us with every fiber of my being. But if one thing came from it, I’m happy that our struggle to survive brought us together. Even before our alterations, I was happy that we needed to keep each other warm, that I could hold you without shame. I wouldn’t have wanted that to change even after our freedom.” He cleared his throat. “Though, ah, I likely would have been… not _ quite _ like this. But I cannot imagine walking away from that experience and never hugging you again.”

“It’s different…” she weakly tried to argue.

“You’re my family, El. I’ve cared for you long before our changes, and I will care no matter what you say. I _ have _ cared, all these years. It is not the work of a scant month knowing who you are now — our foundation is untainted.” He tilted her chin to look into his cat-like eyes, his whiskered cheeks, his small and oh-so-human smile. 

“You’re so stubborn.” She wanted to look away, but it was impossible. “I forgot about you, Dimitri. It wasn’t until we were together in that cell that I remembered the faceless Faerghan noble of my childhood was you. That he was my step-brother. I forgot you, just like the faces of my blood siblings.”

“It’s okay. I expected it, after I first saw how you didn’t seem to recognize me. It doesn’t change how I feel. You’re not getting rid of me. We both have so little family left. You’re not getting rid of me, my sister.”

She let go. “Okay.” She returned his hug. “Okay. Brother. Okay, brother.”

“Thank you, sister.”

She’d forgotten people like Dimitri existed. People that love without reservation. It was such a simple reason that mattered so much to him. With the death of her family, she’d pushed such thoughts away. Dimitri, it seemed, clung all the tighter because of his loss.

After a few minutes of hugging, she realized something was missing. Her gut churned again. _ Claude. _ She didn’t have a history with him like she did with Dimitri. Their bond could _ only _ be the product of their crests. Had she even known him for a full month? Yet he was one of her two most trusted confidants. She’d shared parts of herself with him that she’d shared with no one. He reminded her of family. Against Hubert’s judgment, she fully trusted Claude. Against _ Hubert, _ whom she trusted above all others, she chose _ Claude. _ She spurned Hubert for his, in hindsight, _ very logical _ objections on placing so much trust in Claude.

Her bond with Claude was entirely fake. She barely knew him. It was their crests that gnawed at her to include him. 

She turned to look at him. He’d moved. Scanning the room, she found him curled up in the corner. He laid flat on his belly (both of them), chin resting on the floor as he gazed at nothing in particular. No smile in sight. 

Perhaps his crest had exhausted him? He looked like he didn’t even have the energy to turn his head. He looked… defeated. _ Sad. _

Dimitri couldn’t see Claude behind her wings. If Dimitri saw Claude looking like _ that, _ lion-mode would immediately activate and he’d bring Claude into her nest. She reminded herself that she didn’t _ really _ want Claude. It was their spliced crest talking. She didn’t _ really _ care about him. She wanted Dimitri, her brother. She didn’t need Claude too.

Maybe it was the ears. His ears drooped lifelessly. Maybe that was why he looked so sad. Claude was excellent at appearing sad with his new features. But he wasn’t pouting, or holding his eyes too wide, or any of his usual tactics. She wasn’t sure he even knew she was looking at him. He wasn’t doing anything. Just breathing and occasionally blinking.

“Claude?”

He tilted his head away from her, facing the wall instead.

“Oh! Claude! Apologies, you’re welcome here as well!” DImitri peered behind her wings, his smile falling. “Claude?”

“I’m just going to sleep here tonight. Real tired. You guys can have my bed.” No inflection to his voice. 

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine. Just tired.”

“Is it from your crest?” she asked, concerned.

He just hummed.

“Claude…” Dimitri let go of her to approach him. “What’s wrong?”

Claude curled in on himself at Dimitri’s approach. “Nothing. Just go back to your sister.”

“You’re our brother too.” He reached out to stroke Claude’s back.

Claude shuffled further away from Dimitri. “No I’m not. Obviously that’s just our crests talking. Neither of you have a reason to care about me. You don’t even know me.” Her stomach sank further as Claude’s monotone words reflected her own thoughts. He kept going, point after point, exactly what she thought about him. “Don’t try to tell me it’s not true. Just leave me alone.”

“I don’t care that we aren’t blood or family related,” Dimitri tried. “I didn’t think you care either.”

“I don’t. But El—delgard is right. Everything towards me is… fake. You two know each other. Not me though. I’m just an outsider, butting into somewhere he doesn’t belong.”

“No! Claude, that’s not true!”

“It’s okay. It’s not like we have a choice. Say whatever you want, but it won’t change the fact that no one will ever care about me unless magically compelled to.”

_ Oh. _ So that was what this was about. Guilt churned her stomach.

“No, Claude, no! I care about you! Just as deeply as I do for El, there is no _ magic _ forcing me!”

Claude huffed. “Careful. You’re undermining what you just told your sis. _ Our _ relationship isn’t ‘untainted’ like yours and hers. What’ll she think if you care just as much about a stranger as you do _ real family? _ How _ real _ are your feelings then, huh?”

“You are _ not _ a stranger!” Dimitri growled. “You are Claude, you are my friend, and you are my _ brother, _ whether you like it or not!”

Claude just pressed himself into the corner, facing away. “Sure. Empty words. None of that is even true.”

“Not even your name?” she weakly teased, knowing what she needed to say. Because Dimitri was right.

She didn’t expect his silence.

“Is… Claude not your name?”

Silence.

She traded a look with Dimitri and hesitated. His name _ wasn’t _ Claude? What else had he been lying about? Claude was evasive, even to them. Even as her own secrets kept pouring over, he rarely shared his own secrets unless given no other choice. To lie about his _ name, _ even to _ them? _ Weren’t they close? Weren’t they— 

Claude lied about his name to _ them. _ He was _ able _ to lie to them about something so personal. 

_ He had a choice. _

“Blast. I’m a fool.” Claude curled up tighter, but Dimitri didn’t seem to notice. “You were born in Almyra. I suppose your birth name is Almyran. Blast. It never even occurred to me, I’m sorry Cl—ah… I’m sorry.”

There were a lot of things Claude hadn’t told them, that was clear. There were things she hadn’t told them either. If they were magically forced to love each other, why hold back secrets? If it was as all-consuming as she feared it to be, would she even be worried? She still had her doubts about the two of them, still argued with them, still was her own separate person. 

She spoke up. “It’s just an _ influence. _ It isn’t _ forcing _us to care about each other. Encouraging, maybe. But we still have our own free will.”

Claude just huffed. Ironic that they switched places in the debate.

“In fact… It compels us to be in physical proximity and to trust each other. Do we agree with those two effects?”  
  
Dimitri nodded, and Claude didn’t reply.

“I’m taking that as a yes. No one said anything about our crests forcing us to care for each other. I certainly don’t feel that way towards _ Rhea. _ I trust and care for Hubert, but I don’t love him like I do you two.” She reached down to stroke his back. He flinched but didn’t pull away. “We aren’t _ forced _ to care about you. I care about you because you held me as my wings ruptured my back open, even though I spurned you moments before. I care because you kept me warm and bandaged my back when no one else was there for me. I care because you kept our spirits alive with your stories even when you were exhausted and in pain yourself. When I thought I was going to die in that wretched place, you held me. You didn’t _ have _ to, but you did. We _ all _ thought we were going to die in that place, and we came out of it alive and together. If that doesn’t make you qualified to be my brother, then Dimitri isn’t either. I care about _ both _ of you because of our shared experience. Not because I’m forced to.”

Claude uncurled some, sitting up and looking at them. He searched her face. He would find no lie from her.

“Like you said: we’re in this together. Like Dimitri said: what we feel is real. What I’m saying: You are no outsider, not when you’re with us.” She pulled him into a hug. “For that matter, knowing Dimitri is my step-brother means next to nothing to me. No offence, Dimitri. We didn’t grow up together, we barely knew each other. It’s the bond we share _ now _ that matters to me.”

“You really aren’t gonna allow me to wallow, are you?” Claude mumbled, some of his cheekiness trickling back into his voice. “Usually you’re much better about making up your mind.”

“And usually you aren’t one to be brought so low. I’m flattered that the concept of losing myself and Dimitri is so distressing to you.” This managed to get him to break eye contact, shifting to look at the floor with reddening cheeks. “What do you think, Dimitri? Are we going to allow Those Who Slither to drive a wedge between the three of us?”

“Absolutely not.” Dimitri joined the hug. He then scooped them both up and deposited them into her nest.

“How are we supposed to sleep in this?” Claude poked at the inside of her nest. “You used most of my blankets, what’s going to keep us warm?”

Dimitri’s tail wiggle back and forth. She curled her wings around the nest.

“Right, dumb question.” To her annoyance, he pulled out one of the blankets in her nest. “It’s a compromise! Yeesh. Some of us like blankets. No offense to your feathers, my fur, or Dimitri’s furnace.”

Dimitri rubbed behind Claude’s ears, earning him a pleased hum. “Feeling better, I see. I’m glad.”

“Yeah, well, you two make it hard not to. And… thanks. Guess I overreacted.”

“No you didn’t. Because if you overreacted, that means I did as well, and I refused to believe that.”

“Hah! Now that’s the El I know.”

They settled down. Dimitri couldn’t fully lay straight like usual with the way her nest was shaped, so they had to curl around each other creatively. “See? My nest is a good idea. This is very comfortable.”

“You’re biased,” Claude said as if he wasn’t visibly pleased by her nest. It was _ very _ cozy and she deserved more credit from him. “My antlers hardly fit in here. Look, they’re less than an inch from hitting the bed’s headboard!” _ Nitpick. _

“This is nice,” Dimitri whispered. “I would be lost without you both.” His purring rumbled through his words as he nuzzled them. “Maybe the fact that this feels _ right _ isn’t natural, but I’m grateful nonetheless.”

“Agreed.” Claude breathed a sigh. “Nice and cozy. So long as it’s this… just don’t try to put your fist inside of my chest cavity to get closer.”

She and Dimitri both jolted. “Disgusting! Way to ruin the moment.”

“The moment was too disgusting and sappy already, don’t blame me!”

Dimitri sighed. “I am certainly blaming you.” He was still purring. “Goodnight, brother, sister. I love you both.”

At least she wasn’t the only one who’s breath hitched. “That was _ way _ too sappy,” Claude muttered, cheek warm against her shoulder.

“Indeed. It was. Love you too, my two brothers.” She pecked a quick kiss to both of their foreheads. Dimitri beamed at her, and Claude pouted with visibly red cheeks now. She snickered at him.

“You did that on purpose.”

“I did.”

He looked away, his pout vanishing. “How come neither of you asked me about… my name?” 

She and Dimitri had the same idea, both of them scratching behind Claude’s ears. She shared a smile with him. “You’ll tell us when you’re ready. We’ll call you whatever you want us to call you. And _ you _ better keep calling me El. No _ ‘Princess’ _ or _ ‘Edelgard’ _ for you.”

Claude hummed and closed his eyes. “Love you too… brother and sister…” He whispered two more words that she assumed were Almyran.

It didn’t take long to fall asleep. It took even less time to wake from her nightmare. Closing her eyes brought forth rivers of blood, broken corpses, and cackling specters of Rhea binding them in chains. She gave up on sleep after dreaming of Claude being used by Those Who Slither as an endless battery of healing, prodding his crest until it drained him dry. Then they infused her and Dimitri with Claude’s blood, and the torture never ended.

“We really should have seen this coming,” Claude wheezed as he snapped awake. “Story time? I say story time.”

Dimitri whined, nosing closer. She nodded. “That would be good, yes.”

“I guess… I’ll tell the story of the small prince and his smaller wyvern. Once there was a prince who didn’t look like he was expected to and his wyvern who didn’t look like she was supposed to either…”

They traded turns sharing the most wholesome stories they could (though Dimitri did a poor job). They slept little. Tucked inside her nest, so long as they remained awake, they were safe. Together, they were safe. They slept little, but by morning they slept _ some. _

Morning came. They were alive, and they were together. 

Claude’s groans woke her. In dawn’s light his face was ashen and twisted with pain. He panted, chest heaving, body slick with sweat. His wide eyes met hers. He clutched his head with both hands.

The tips of his antlers were sunk into the headboard of their bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dimitri: I love u El bc we knew each other before the influence! Checkmate, atheist! Family values! Sure, if we only met a month ago that would _obviously_ be nothing but fake crest influence. But we share a past together!  
El:... yeah, okay. <3  
Dimitri: :D I did it! I made someone feel better! Claude, did you see that? I did i—  
Claude: ;-; *Only met a month ago* *No family relation* *Baggage about not belonging*  
Dimitri: oOo nooOOOOO!!!!  
El: Sigh. Let me explain Trauma Bonding, idiot.
> 
> Hanneman: Crests being tied to souls? That’s BULLSHIT! Ah, ahem, I mean… blasphemy aside…
> 
> me @ myself: okay, *this* is the last chapter that Claude gets hurt. He's not a punching bag, stop it.  
me: *Hurts Claude again* He's a squishy archer/delicate deer, *and* he has a healing crest, what else am i supposed to do with him? _Not_ hurt him??
> 
> There we go! Now everyone has a trauma kink:  
Dimitri: Scent kink  
Claude: Masochism  
Edelgard: Byleth
> 
> So this chapter's tone went everywhere lol. Not super happy w/ Hanneman's section, but at this point I just gotta put out this chapter and keep rolling. This is a revelation I've been hinting at for the entire fic: the trio is trauma-bonded, yes, but they have something of a magical dependency on each other too. It's not just their bodies that have been heavily mutated but their crests as well. They get the benefit of weak versions of each other's crests, but their crests now try to vibrate back into their original hosts. Rhea's convinced it's a miracle from mommy Sothis. Too bad it's actually an unfinished and untested science experiment.
> 
> Next chapter: After effects


	21. Love of a Mother and her Poppy Tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tw: Effects of drug-like magic. If discussions of addiction are triggering, this is probably a chapter to be skipped.
> 
> And Rhea is being Rhea again. She doesn't believe concepts like 'asking for permission' apply to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special shoutout this chapter to Neko for reigniting my passion for this fic! I didn't intend to put this one on the backburner, but Starlight Vomit and Chick Magnet have both been taking up a lot of my time. Almost done with SV though! ^-^ I should (fingers crossed) be putting this fic back on a ~monthly schedule. 
> 
> Anyways, check out Neko's amazing artwork! [The Boys playing](https://gyazo.com/9ef9631103da4d46403bbd93ec6191a2), [El smacking her boys](https://gyazo.com/bda78f291fee795156abba622216fa8f), and [Dimitri hissing at a cat](https://gyazo.com/e0ad05aeee32cd6b90e78ba4347f4637)

**Saturday, 10th of Harpstring Moon**

**(Morning)**

  
  
  
  


“I said  _ no _ El,” Dimitri growled, turning his head away from the offered spoon.

“You’ll feel better.”

“No, I  _ won’t, _ stop it.”

“You don’t know that. You haven’t even tried it!”

_ “Please _ stop yelling…” Claude’s moan shut both of them up.

“I’m whispering,” El muttered under her breath. Claude groaned again. She finally set the bowl of soup down. Ever since Dedue delivered the food, El had been trying to get him to eat. If Claude wasn’t in agony, she’d be trying to force a spoon down his throat too.

Dimitri covered his nose with his arm. “Will you please take that outside?” Even on the other side of the room the smell was overpowering.

El glared at him. “You know I can’t.”

“Right. Forgot.” He slumped forward in his chair, burying his face in the bed.  _ That _ was a better scent. Claude’s room smelled of many scents, especially from his medical drawer. Now the entire room was overpowering. He wanted nothing more than to curl up and smother himself. If Claude could be moved, Dimitri would march all three of them to his own room. A room  _ without _ pungent medical scents everywhere. Unfortunately, even the tiniest bump to Claude’s antlers left him in ever increasing pain. There was also the issue of his own mobility. 

If only they hadn’t sent Dedue and Hubert away. At the start of the morning, he and El felt relatively fine. They’d been focused only on Claude and the obvious pain he experienced. Both men offered to remain on standby outside the door if they needed anything. They dismissed both retainers. Claude had been able to hear them through the door and was uncomfortable with that. Beyond that, Dimitri’s nose had already grown extra sensitive by then. Dedue’s scent was more than fine but  _ Hubert _ smelled wretched. Like  _ that creature  _ who experimented on them in the first place. So they dismissed their retainers, firm in the knowledge they were nearby should they need anything. He and El asked their retainers to (subtly) clear the dorms as well, as Claude kept complaining  _ ‘Felix is sharpening his sword’  _ and  _ ‘Lorenz is reading stupid poetry’ _ and  _ ‘Someone downstairs is snoring too loud’. _ By then it was edging into late morning. He overheard the two men recruit Hilda and Sylvain to scheme some way to clear the dorms. Evidently it worked. 

That was over an hour ago. By the time he and El realized they too were succumbing to the aftereffects of their crests, it was too late to call their retainers back. Silver lining that he didn’t have to smell Hubert… 

A hoof tapped him. “Stop grinding your teeth. Can hear it.” He growled into the mattress, trying to stop for Claude’s sake. Claude kicked him again. “How long’s this gonna last?”

Neither of them answered. Dimitri reluctantly pulled himself upright. Claude’s eyes were squeezed shut, his skin coated in sweat. He tilted his head to the side, the wet towel on his forehead flopping onto the pillow. Acting on instinct Dimitri moved to replace it. The moment his fingers curled around the cloth his entire hand burst into fiery pain. The cloth fell from his shaking grasp. He curled forward, spasming hand clutched to his chest. He refused to make any noises of pain, for Claude’s sake. 

“E-El, can you, p-please…” He breathed through the pain. The tight tendons in his hands only hurt when he moved them. So long as he kept his fingers in the same position he was fine. They naturally locked up anyways, it was only by fighting past the stiffness that they hurt. 

“If only we had something warm for your hands.” She took the cloth, dunked it in fresh cold water, and replaced it over Claude’s forehead. “Any better? Worse?”

“‘S not as bad as back in the cell,” Claude whispered. “Feels like my skull’s gonna explode though. ‘Mitri, you should use my salve for your hands. It’s the bottle with a blue label, you—”

“I already said  _ no.” _

Claude writhed. “V-volume…!”

“Sorry.” He carefully pressed his forehead against Claude’s cheek, applying a little extra scent. He had to pull back to grind his teeth more. Claude would yell at him if he did that too close to his ears. “The salve smells too strong. Can’t use it.”

“This sucks.” Claude summarized the situation well. “How’re you holding up El?” 

El sat beside the desk in her own little blanket nest. She’d been upset at the need to dismantle her old one, but Claude needed more room to sprawl out on the bed. He was starting to think nest-building was a stress relieving activity for her.  _ Goddess, _ they all needed some stress-relief. At some point El had yanked off her nightgown in a fit. Dressed only in her smallclothes and her feathers, she was  _ still _ rubbing her lower back against the desk like it was a scratching post.

_ “I’m fine.” _

Claude clutched his head with both hands. “Do neither of you know how to whisper? You’re both killing me. Dimitri,  _ shut up!” _

“I’m just breathing.”

“Then go breathe in the corner!”

He was about to try to get up when El bapped him with her wing. “You can’t walk, don’t even think about it.”

He eyed the floor. “I can crawl on my elbows and knees…” and he  _ probably _ could walk a little bit. His toes didn’t hurt half as much as his fingers.

“Oh? Have the rest of your joints stopped hurting?” She pinned him with a glare, his ears pressing flat. “I thought not. Stay put.” 

“My joints are in a different kind of pain.’ His joint were only  _ highly  _ irritated rather than in any actual pain. He twisted in his seat, arching his spine. His legs stretched out (carefully so as not to flex his feet). His knee popped, causing Claude to flinch. He bit his lip, resisting the urge to stretch his arms and shoulders. Those joints might pop too. Stretching didn’t even help, like an itch that couldn’t be scratched. Every muscle in his body was taut. The urge to stretch himself further than his joints allowed made itself known.

“Claude, when you discovered your joint flexibility, did it hurt?”

“No. Think that’s what's happening to you?”

He stretched his knees, biting back a whimper. It wasn’t that he wanted to twist himself into a pretzel. His legs wanted to stretch further  _ out. _ The fantasy of being tied to a rack and stretched to his limit played through his mind. Maybe then— 

He bit through his lip as a cramp seared his calf. He curled over himself, unable to even massage the muscle as his leg shook. He tried to stay quiet, but judging by Claude’s moan he didn’t manage it.

“Let me help.” El approached, wings fluffed up. With worry? It didn’t matter, because one of her wings happened to brush against the thick blanket hung over the window (that he put up before his joints hurt too much to move). A spot of light entered the room. She flinched away and covered her eyes, wings snapping around herself.

“It’s dark again,” he grit through his teeth as soon as the blanket settled. His cramp died down finally.

She flopped flat on her back, wings spilling across the floor. There wasn’t enough room for them to spread out fully. Judging by her quivering feathers, that bothered her. She shimmied back and forth some, groaning.

“Does your back still hurt?”

She shook her head. “Itches. I swear to all that is holy, if I am growing another set of wings, I’ll.. I’ll…”

“Would’ve heard if you got another set,” Claude slurred. “Still hear that sound in my nightmares from the first time.”

“What do wings sounds like?” Dimitri wondered aloud. Like the sound of feathers brushing together, maybe?

“Ripping meat.”

“Oh.” He should have guessed.

El made a frustrated chirp-like noise, rubbing her back against the floor. Claude yanked his ears down, pressing them tightly to his head. “I regret getting these fixed. El, blow out my eardrums again, I can’t take this.”

His head pounded. The nauseating smell of soup was finally being replaced by something else, though he couldn’t pin what the smell was. He could smell Claude’s sweat and fur, El’s feathers and preen oil, paper and ink and herbs and wood and stone and  _ everything.  _ Dimitri shoved his face back into the blankets as he tuned Claude’s babbling out.

His hands hurt more than anything, but his jaw was a close second. If it weren’t for Claude, he would have ground his teeth into oblivion by now. He  _ desperately _ wanted something to chew on. Byleth had him gnaw on a branch an entire lifetime ago while they were traveling back to Garreg Mach. He  _ craved _ that relief. 

“‘Mitri, ‘Mitri, please, you gotta.”

He jerked upright. “What? What’s wrong?” He regretted the quick movement, head throbbing and nausea doubling.

A long whine echoed through the room. “My antlers ‘Mitri, snap them off. I’m begging you.” Claude blindly reached out for him, finding his forearm and gripping tightly.

“I can’t. It will only make your pain worse.”

“You dunno that! Get these  _ things _ off my head!”

“I can’t, not even if I wanted to. I can’t grip anything.” He buried his nose in the crook of Claude’s neck, gently nuzzling him.

He squirmed, gripping his skull. “Make it stop, I don’t wanna be a deer…!” A long, distressed deer cry followed. 

Helplessness fed into anger, nearly prompting him to chomp his jaw into whatever was in front of him. Given  _ Claude _ was in front of him, he held back, grinding his face up and down. Whether it helped Claude or not (he really hoped it helped), it made  _ him _ feel better to cover some of Claude’s fear-scent with his own.  _ ‘I’m here’, _ he was silently saying.

“You’re overthinking this,” El snapped. “Stop panicking. You aren’t turning into a deer.”

“You don’t know that! If we’re turning into animals,  _ I’m _ going to be the first to go! I got more procedures than you.” One hand yanked at hair, the other yanking his ear. “Is this gonna happen every time one of us uses our crest? How long till we’ve got no more humanity left to lose?” Claude lost his voice as he began bleating.

El picked herself off the floor, both hands raking down her back. She stumbled over to the bed, resting her cheek on Claude’s flank and carefully covering Claude’s lower half with her wing. “Your panic is the ‘deer’ talking again. We will find a solution. Those Who Slither will  _ not _ win.”

“El’s right, Claude,” he whispered as calmly as he could. “You’ll get through this, I swear it. We all will.” He squinted at El. “There’s something wrong with your eyes.” She gave him a  _ ‘no shit, dumbass’ _ look. Her eyes were covered by a cloudy film. “Can you still see?”

“Of course I can. Just not as well as usual.” She paused her itching. “Ah. I believe I am bleeding.”

“You aren’t. I would smell it if you were.” He took a sniff. “You smell like… something. It’s new.” They were interrupted by a high pitched whine from Claude. “Sorry. Too loud?” he breathed.

Claude shoved a pillow over his face as he continued to writhe. “It’s too much, too much! I can hear your blood pumping, your heartbeat, your organs! Make it stop!” His antlers tapped the backboard and he screamed into the pillow. That tapered off into a whine. His hooves blindly kicked behind him striking at air. “Too loud, too much, just stop, please just stop…!”

He exchanged a look with El. Both of them were silent. Dimitri stopped breathing (for a few moments). He swallowed hard, and Claude flinched. “We need to leave for him,” he whispered as silently as possible. “You can blindfold yourself and I’ll crawl.” Claude whined and snatched his arm, squeezing him for dear life.  _ “Or not,” _ he mouthed. Unable to use his hands, he continued to use his cheek to scent Claude while El petted down his back one-handed. Her other hand continued to itch her back. She was smearing a greasy, strong-smelling stuff all over Claude’s back. Given it smelled like  _ El, _ his lion-brain deemed the smell acceptable. Slowly Claude’s bleating became whining, then mere panting. He despised being so helpless.

Claude’s sensitive hearing came and went in waves, each wave more sensitive than the last. Dimitri wasn’t sure what Claude would do the next time his hearing spiked.  _ Speaking of spiking, _ his limbs were aching more and more. Joints cried out for relief, begging for him to stretch them into oblivion. His muscles quivered, tensing and relaxing without his say-so. His headache flared behind his eyes. It was only a matter of time before everything started cramping again.

“I am definitely bleeding,” El muttered to him. 

“How can you mistake that for blood? It smells completely different.”

“What else would it be? I’ve scratched my back open.”

“Did’ja spill a bottle of pegasus oil?” Claude groaned. “Smells like you did.”

“Welcome back Claude. Any better now?”

He whimpered. “I hate this.”

“Seconded,” he and El said at the same time.

“Both of you, quiet.”

“We’re still whispering Claude—”

“Not that. Someone’s coming.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “I think it’s Rhea.” After a short period he heard what Claude meant: footsteps. El turned away from the door and wrapped her wings protectively around herself.

Rhea didn’t even knock as she slipped the door open, spilling light into the room. “Good morning,” her melodic voice whispered. “You three sleepyheads have been in bed for quite some time.” She stepped into the room and clicked the door shut behind her. “Oh dear, this door is broken. One of you should have informed me.”  _ Of course _ Rhea was strong enough to effortlessly open the door. He could  _ feel  _ Claude’s screeching paranoia spike.

“It’s a Saturday. Best time to sleep in,” Claude croaked. Compared to his previous cries he sounded much better. Compared to his usual tone, it was obvious something was wrong.

“Indeed. How are you all fairing? Yesterday was quite the ordeal. I thought it best to check up on you three. Might I light a candle?”

“No.” El didn’t elaborate.

Eyeing the cluttered state of Claude’s room, perhaps it was a blessing El couldn’t stand the light. Add onto that El’s lacking state of dress. If Rhea saw them, Dimitri might wither away with embarrassment. At least El did a decent job of stress-cleaning last night. Other than a few (tidy) book-towers and Claude’s disastrous desk, the room was relatively in order. As soon as the archbishop took a step, the double-edged factor of the darkness occurred to him. “Lady Rhea, please be careful. The room is, um, messy.” A vision of Rhea tripping over Claude’s mess was enough to make him grind his teeth.

She smiled at him and winked. She perfectly side-stepped Claude’s book-towers. “My, these quarters are small for the three of you. I’ve prepared a nice surprise this morning. Let’s get you sleepyheads ready for the day, mm?”

Claude’s grip on his arm was like a vice. Sucking in a gulp of air, Claude broke. His low moan filled the silence of the room.

“Oh dear.” Rhea approached the bed, settling a hand on Dimitri’s hair and scratching briefly at his ears. Her other hand caressed Claude’s cheek. “Forgive me, you are not well. I see the Goddess’ blessing is taking its toll.”

“Too loud,” Claude wheezed. 

“Let’s see what is ailing my sweet little deer…” A faint light lit up against Claude’s cheek. El squawked, her feathers rustling as she shielded her eyes. “Forgive me.” The light remained for another moment then faded away. “Are all three of you in pain?”

“It’s manageable,” Dimitri tried his best to keep his voice from shaking.

“Shh, all is well, I am here now,” Rhea whispered, leaning forward to press a kiss to his forehead. For a moment, he thought he slipped into insanity. He  _ must _ have imagined her action. “Oh, my poor little dears… you must all be in such pain… Allow me to attend to your brother first, then I will heal you.” He could only watch dumbstruck as Rhea returned her attention to Claude. “My dear Edelgard, if light hurts you, please look away.” 

“Wh-what are you going to do to me?” Claude gasped, oscillating between flinching from Rhea’s touch and leaning into her palm. 

“Shh, allow me to ease your pain.” Faint light once again lit Claude’s face. He choked out a note of pain as his eyes scrunched shut. A low deer whine escaped. Then he exhaled and relaxed, all tension leaving his body. “That’s better, isn’t it…”

“Uh huh…”

“Good boy.” Rhea moved upward, pressing her thumbs against Claude’s temples. He groaned again as she stroked his ears with light. Then she moved up further, massaging the base of his antlers. Claude  _ never _ let anyone touch the base of his antlers, not even him or El. But now he was pushing his face into Rhea’s hands.

Rhea tutted. “There we are. All fixed. Your big strong antlers want to grow even bigger and stronger. But the blood flow isn’t adequate, so they are growing very slowly. Activating your crest strengthened the blood flow some, triggering a quick growth. My poor deer, your skull is having such trouble keeping up. The bone was pushing inwards a little, triggering a nasty migraine.” She pressed a kiss to his forehead. “All better now.”

“You stopped the blood?” Claude slurred, eyes half-lidded.

“Oh, not at all. Worry not. It is extra strong now, much more stable. As it should be. Your antlers will continue to grow as they are meant to.”

“You  _ strengthened _ the blood flow?” Dimitri gasped.

“It is for the best. Now then, sweet Edelgard, please come to me. Let me take a look at you.”

“No, I am fine.” El said from the corner. “Merely a touch sensitive to light.”

“Nonsense.” Rhea approached the corner. Dimitri grit his teeth together, unable to stand and help. He had to trust that Rhea wanted them in good condition. “Worry not, I will use no light.” She carefully pulled Edelgard’s wings from her face.

“How’re y’seeing without light?” Claude slurred again, head lolling weakly.

“Ah, ever the perceptive deer.” Rhea glanced back at Claude and smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Remind me later and I will reward you.”

“Uh?” Claude balked, his tail perking up to wiggle.

She returned to inspecting El, humming. “Look at that! You are developing an inner eyelid.”

“A  _ what?!” _

“Shh, your brother’s ears are still sensitive. Shut your eyes, my dear, allow me to help.”

“No, I don’t need any help.” Contrary to her words, her eyes slid shut.

A faint light lit up her face, her body and wings slumping as she surrendered into Rhea’s hold. “Good girl. Better, isn’t it? Oh… oh my, it’s not just your eyes that hurt.”

Whatever El tried to say, she only managed a slur of syllables. “Lady Rhea,” Dimitri began, unsure what to say. El was afraid and he needed to protect her, yet he wasn’t reacting in the same way he usually did to threats. His mane wasn’t puffed up, there was no protective rage. He tried to stand and collapsed to the ground.

“Please be patient, my little lion. I am almost finished with your sister.”

Rhea maneuvered her, examining her wings, then lower. “More feathers. Look at this… tail feathers. They must itch terribly so.” More light. El groaned. Extending from her tailbone, an innocent-looking patch of small-feathers quivered. A good dozen or so grew, fanning outwards. “There we are, there we are. That’s enough for now. Worry not, the extra blood flow will ensure they grow in nice and strong. Such pretty feathers these are. I will have the tailors alter your clothes. Such pretty feathers must be shown off. Would be a shame to hide them away, far too uncomfortable.”

“I don’t want them,” El gasped, shaking in Rhea’s hold.

“Nonsense. They will help you fly.” Rhea stroked El’s wings. “And one last surprise I see… You are developing a preen gland!” Rhea pressed on either side of El’s spine at the small of her back. She massaged the two spots, El’s head lolling forward bonelessly. “No more need for pegasus oil, my dear. Two glands, one for each wing. With how many feathers you have, I suppose it is only natural.”

“Told you it wasn’t blood,” Dimitri felt the need to say.

“Should your brothers ever grow tired of preening you, I offer my own assistance.”

“No need. Shesh got us.” Claude groggily snapped. “How come you fixed my ears now, but couldn’t yesterday?”

“The pain is still with you, I have merely numbed it. Just a pain-killing spell, my dear.”

“But, y’said, the blood flow…”

“Shhh, you must rest.” Rhea pulled El into her arms, bringing her to the bed. She settled El next to Claude. Then she knelt down and swept him into her arms too. He grit his teeth together to hold back pained noises. Unlike El who was short, he was big. His time in captivity left him a few extra inches taller, his strange somewhat cat-like legs more bulky than his human ones. Yet Rhea held him like he weighed nothing.  _ So this was how Claude felt being picked up. _ His tail curled itself around Rhea. He would enjoy being held more if it wasn’t  _ Rhea _ holding him. He resolved to hold Claude more often (and El too, when she allowed him). 

“And what ails you, my kitten?”

“K-kitten?”

She ignored him, settling him back into his chair. She pried his mouth open, tendrils of magic numbing his jaw. She tapped at his sharp teeth fearlessly. “Your jaw certainly doesn’t wish to stay in this shape. Nor the rest of your skull. A slow process, but… hm.” Her light increased, numbing his entire face. From the numbness trickled in a warm touch of healing up and down. The sudden absence of pain left him feeling dazed and floaty. “There we are. Let’s see… your whole body must ache.” She petted his ears. “Worry not, growing pains are an easy fix.”

“Growing pains?”  _ No, _ she couldn’t mean he was getting taller!

“Indeed. Have no fear, I will ensure you are taken care of during this period.” More warmth suffused his bones. The pain vanished and he found himself pummeled with raining bricks of drowsiness. She moved down to his hands and massage light into those too. He found himself purring. The light felt…  _ nice. _

“What’s bein’ a lion gotta do with bein’ tall…?” Claude asked.

“Such a smart boy,” Rhea sing-songed as she guided him to the bed. He instinctively curled around El and Claude. He tried to grab them, but his hands were fully locked up. He couldn’t budge his fingers an inch. “A lion is strong. The  _ Blaiddyd _ ‘lion’ is big, and strong, and protective. Matches the sweet young prince who protects his siblings, no? It is only natural that the body acclimates to the crest and blessing.” 

“‘M not… a lion…” He screwed his eyes shut, purring uncontrollably. “Don’ wanna be… a beast.”

“Shh… time to rest, my children.” 

Rhea’s voice rose into a lullaby of unrecognizable syllables. 

* * *

“There we are,” Seiros whispered to herself, tucking the three children into their new bed. Hours had passed since she healed them and they were still wiped out. The poor things. She should have checked on them earlier. She watched them sleep for a time. Her ‘hands-off’ approach had been a foolish one. They had Mother, of course, but Mother was still working to remember herself. It fell to Seiros to take up the active roll in their lives. She was delighted to do so. The children needed active guidance.

_ Especially _ after her discovery from their blood samples.

She pecked one last kiss to their foreheads (with a touch of magic to ensure they rested well). Giving one last once-over to their new quarters, she determined it was perfect. As much as she desired to stay with them as they slept, she had duties to attend to. 

The lock clicked shut with her key. A press of her palm to the door activated the centuries old wards, ensuring her little ones were as safe as possible.

A millennia of performing the same job granted her efficiency at dealing with the day in and day out tasks. With Cichol attending to most of the administration work these days, she was free to spend more time directed how she pleased.

She bustled about, humming to herself. She was excited to return to her little ones. It was wonderful to have something to look forward to. Cethleann’s arrival had sparked something similar in her but not to this extent.  _ Ah, _ she should set up a… what were they called? A playdate? She should set up a playdate with her little ones and Cethleann. Those four would get along very well. Cethleann would enjoy having little siblings to totter after her.

She returned to Claude’s old room, collecting all of Edelgard and Dimitri’s clothes — they would need some alterations. She found their ceremonial robes bunched up under the bed. She took those too. She explored the desk drawers as well. Medical supplies and herbs? Curious. She even found a few ‘mild’ poisons. Poisons were an excellent hobby (Claude’s hobby, she assumed), and she would encourage him. With her  _ own  _ methods, of course. Wouldn’t want him to accidentally poison himself! The trio wouldn’t even notice her inoculation process. She would allow them to garden in her personal greenhouse. They would find no danger under her eye. She examined his books as well. She didn’t approve of a few, noting which subjects her children would need reeducation in. Lastly she found school notes. To her disappointment, Claude wrote in code.  _ Tricky boy. _ She satisfied herself by reading Dimitri and Edelgard’s notes instead. Poor Dimitri was struggling with his penmanship. 

After memorizing their handwriting and written speech patterns, she put everything back where she found it. Gathering their clothes, she left to the tailor. There she rattled off the measurements she took while the children slept (plus extra for Dimitri) and explained the necessary adjustments.

She resumed her typical archbishop routine. For the first time in so very long, the world was joyous and the future bright. Her followers surely noticed her upbeat mood, further spreading the good cheer. In her afternoon sermon, she inspired hope to countless. It was vital she regrow what she let languish for centuries. Her weariness and complacency allowed the southern church to dissent, the eastern church to become irrelevant, and the western church to fall under false notions. She could see that now. It was time she clean what had been allowed to rot and purge what festered. Her little ones would inherit her work, so she must streamline it before that day came. Perhaps she had been too lenient with humanity’s free reign. Humanity  _ always _ made a mess of things. The poor creatures needed a guiding hand. Without a higher power, they warred among themselves endlessly. Time and time again humanity proved they were not responsible enough to govern their own futures.

It was past time she followed up on certain dissenters in the nobility. Faerghus followed the church easy but stubbornly. They would take time to cajole into seeing the true Goddess, but they remained loyal. The restoration of Adrestia’s church was to be her final goal, but for now she was working to revitalize Leicester’s branch. Though tiring beyond measure, the ‘self-governed’ tribe of nobles were the easiest of the three to manipulate.

“Rhea?” Cichol entered her office, door falling shut behind him. “Do you have a moment to speak?”

“A small one.” She teased a smile, setting aside paperwork. “I wished to speak with you as well. Come, sit.”

“Is that so? I am certain you know why I’m here.” He sat on the other side of her desk, stiff-backed and stern.  _ A serious matter, then. _ “You have been spending more time with those three.”

“Indeed I have. They are now Children of Sothis. In the absence of the Goddess herself, the archbishop is to be their guardian. You know as well as I how precious children are.”

“Rhea…” Cichol reached out and placed his palm over her hand. “Perhaps you should not become so attached to them.”

She swallowed the anger that wanted to lash out. Cichol was trying to help. “Do not offer useless advice.”

“After Soteria, you said—”

“You will  _ not _ speak of Soteria!  _ You _ were not there,  _ you _ do not get to  _ speak _ of that time!” She yanked her hand from his. He knew the pain that name caused her.  _ What a fool _ she had been in her youth. All her beloved children, all of them lost to time. After her years as Archbishop Soteria, she vowed never to adopt a human ever again.

“Yet you are making the very same mistake.”

“These three are different.”

“Their  _ unique _ shape aside, they are very much still human.”

She smiled at him, her anger vanishing. He just didn’t  _ understand. _ “The Goddess has blessed them. These three are different.” She hid her smile behind her hand. “You recall how long a first generation crest bearer lives.”

“Rhea, they are not—” 

“Correct, they are not first generation.” She reached out and clasped his forearm, beseeching him to understand. “They are  _ stronger. More. _ Their crests are more potent than those we gift our blood upon. So too they shall live as long. No, longer. As long as us, perhaps.”

He shook his head. “I am unconvinced of what you are preaching about them. Rhea, I worry about you. The Agarthans were all wiped out. You are jumping at shadows. Perhaps those three were blessed somehow, but we both know the ‘Riegan’ and ‘Blaiddyd’ crests are—”

“How do you explain the presence of Mother’s crest? Or my own? How do you explain their words of prophecy?” She lowered her hand, grinning brightly and holding his hand with both of hers. “Edelgard can see in total darkness. An  _ eagle _ cannot.  _ I can _ . They are more than they appear. They are  _ like us.” _

“How can you say that? They are nothing like us.  _ You _ do not have feathers.” He brushed at the hair hiding his ears.

She shook her head. Cichol didn’t understand. He didn’t know that mother’s vessel walked among them. He didn’t know anything about her research. He would learn. _All was well._ “You forget the feathers of the divine Goddess, with whom Edelgard shares the blood and blessing of. All of them share traits of their blood. Dimitri is growing big, just as our late brother was the largest of our clutch. And there is Claude. The boy’s antlers grow more familiar each day that passes.”

“They’re still growing?  _ Still changing?” _ His shocked expression was far too stricken to be about her good news.

She couldn’t wait to see the final results of their little growth spurt. The spilled blood and flesh she collected from her test-lab floor revealed many secrets of Mother’s blessing. “Indeed. They have been growing slowly this entire time, and they will continue to grow further.”

Cichol gripped the table, leaning forward. “Why are you smiling? I cannot imagine how distressed they must be. This ‘blessing’ has been hard on them. They are to experience even more? Rhea… this appears to me like some strange and slow demonic transformation.”

She clucked her tongue. Cichol’s continued skepticism was frustrating, but that was how Cichol was. He doubted her about Mother’s vessel as well. “It is  _ not. _ Do trust me on this, I have confirmed it.” It resembled a demonic transformation no more than their own transformations did. “Change is frightening to mortals. That is exactly why I am personally ensuring their wellbeing. I am keeping a close eye on them to ensure their safety. They have nothing to fear from the Goddess.”

Again Cichol faced her with doubt. “I merely believe some caution is in order. You have been acting strangely ever since those three were recovered.” He sighed. “You know I trust you. I still feel you are keeping something from me.”

She shook her head slowly, smiling. “Worry not. All is well. I am certain you will understand in the future. Enough of this.” She clasped her hands together. “Let us speak of something lighter. I have been meaning to extend an invitation for you and Flayn to dine. It has been some time since our last family meal.”

“By family meals, are you including your charges?”

“My children, yes.” Perhaps she should invite Jeralt and Mother’s vessel as well.

“Rhea, have you asked any of them—”

“They are family. Their worlds have crashed around them. Do they not deserve a loving home and family?” Did  _ she _ not deserve a chance to be happy, to have a family to love? It was so much smaller than her old family, but that was okay. She had Mother, and three brothers, a niece, and three sweet children to spoil and love and nurture.  _ She will give them every comfort in the world, and she will teach them to survive. Under her nurturing they will grow strong. She will love them and they will love her. _

“I suppose Flayn and I can make time for a meal in the future. If that is all, I will take my leave.” He stood and lingered. He inhaled, opened his mouth, paused, then changed his mind about whatever he planned to say. He left.

* * *

She prepared an extra hearty dinner. Her poor dears must be starving. She would ensure they received all the nutrients they needed and then some. Mother’s blessing still thrummed through their bodies, pushing forth their metamorphosis. 

She hummed an old hymn to herself, embedding her love and magic into the meal. She prepared plenty of dishes, all sharing certain ingredients. For Claude she prepared swift carrots, de-shelled Aielle pomegranates, and added magic herbs across his dishes. In Dimitri’s meals she added plenty of rocky burdock to everything, peppering in slices of life fruit and glazing his meat with ambrosia. Edelgard’s food all contained white verona, miracle beans, and plenty of golden apples. By now she knew their food preferences. Edelgard gravitated to the sweet ambrosia, Claude swiped slices of golden apples, and Dimitri enjoyed the texture of Aielle pomegranates. It was good to have broad pallets.

Her personal greenhouse had never been so helpful. What started centuries ago as a hobby to distract herself had grown into a mastery. Humans were not the only living things that could be affected with white magic. Not that her crafted spell was known by any human. It was more than  _ the Goddess’ Love _ that allowed her miracle garden to flourish. Tended to with love (and lots of magic), her garden could keep up with her three hungry children and then some.

Her sweet little children would want for nothing. She decided they deserved to be spoiled a little extra. Instead of setting the table in her sitting room, she set the table in the children’s room. Her poor children’s bodies were exhausted. This time, she would bring their food to them. She loaded their table full, taking multiple trips to set it all. With a spell, she ensured the food remained hot and fresh.

With everything ready, she went to their bedside. Even in their sleep they were drawn to one another. Edelgard wrapped her brothers in a feathery hug. The tip of Claude’s ear somehow ended up in Edelgard’s mouth, his braid in Dimitri’s mouth. The cute little children… 

She watched them peacefully sleep for a time.  _ Her own children. _ These ones would not die on her. These ones she could love without reservation. She wanted nothing more than to collect them in her arms and hold them. 

Settling on the bed, she smiled to herself. She did as she desired, collecting her little ones into her arms. They made it easy, already bundled together as one big child to hold. They couldn’t fit on her lap as she was, but she could still rest them against her. She desired to wrap her wings around them.  _ Oh _ how she desired to cradle them in her true form. That would have to wait a very long time. For now, she was satisfied holding them like this. She took her time rocking them back and forth, humming a lullaby. It was such a shame she missed their baby years. She had so much to make up for. They were still so young, even if physically more mature than their years implied.

She fiddled with Dimitri’s lion ears, caressing his cheek. She poured more magic through him, encouraging his body’s growth spurt. His body wanted to grow faster than he had energy and nutrients for, leading to pain and a stunted growth spurt. The simple solution was to keep him well fed and rested. She tapped his nose. In a few months, that too would begin to shift. His face would be very cute.

Claude, her curious little deer. The poor boy’s body hadn’t quite received the message. If she hadn’t caught the deficiency towards his antlers, the things would have fallen right off his head! Some extra magic and more calcium in his diet would ensure they stayed nice and strong as any dragon’s horns should. She petted down his back. His lowered half was another oddity. He was smaller than he should be. His cells showed signs of damage to her magic’s diagnosis. The poor thing must have grown his lower half too rapidly, burning out his growing potential. It would take time, but she could fix that too. She would ensure her sweet little fawn grew into a majestic stag.

Pressing against Edelgard’s new preen glands, she gathered some oil and gussied up her tail feathers. Such pretty things. Such a pretty daughter. The tail feathers still had more to grow, but already (with her help) they extended almost to Edelgard’s knees. She ran her hands over the rest of Edelgard too — her body was working hard at forming more feathers. A little encouragement would go a long way.

She resettled them on the bed. It was a much bigger bed than their old one. She ensured it was the most comfortable available. Only the best for her children. On their bed was the softest blankets and plushest pillows. She’d clothed them in the most comfortable of fabrics, embroidered in their colors and crests (and her own crest, of course). They looked so adorable in matching nightgowns.

One by one she pressed a finger to each forehead. “Time to awaken, my children.”

Claude was the first to respond, flicking an ear. His expression scrunched together. Rolling closer to his brother, he buried his face in his sister’s wing.

“Now, now, aren’t you hungry for dinner?” His groan was muffled under feathers. “I know you’re sleepy sweetie. You can go back to bed after dinner.”

Dimitri was the next to stir, his stomach growling with the fierceness of a dragon. His eyes slid open as he took a few sniffs, though he gave no other implication he was awake. 

“Ow!” Edelgard jerked awake, a wing clumsily flopping away from her brothers. Claude whined, long and high, burying his face into the mattress instead. She scrubbed at her eyes and yawned, lightly jabbing Claude with her talons. “Your antlers poked me.”

“Your wings poked my antlers,” he mumbled into the bed.

“Good morning,” Seiros said. “Are you hungry?”

Edelgard flinched away from her. Her wings puffed up, drawing closer to surround herself and her brothers. “Where are we?” She kicked Claude again. “Get up.”

“Nothing to fear, dear.” She smoothed a hand down Edelgard’s wings. Feathers shivered at her touch, the alarm fading from their tips.

Claude swung himself upright, sleepy eyes darting every direction. “How long’d we sleep for?” His hair was a mess. She itched to comb it for him. “I’m still tired.”

“I know you are. Eat your dinner and you can go back to sleep.”

All three stomachs growled in harmony.

Claude shook his head, frowning. “Where  _ are _ we?” 

“This is your new room.” She spread her arms to show off their accommodations. “Much less cramped now. Forgive me for how long it took to make ready. Three writing desks for you each — with a bench for Claude. A table in the middle. A fully stocked bookshelf.” She gestured to the window. “I had a wooden post installed for Dimitri to help trim those pesky sharp claws. Your closets are stocked. You will find plenty of enrichment objects. Teething items for Dimitri, an antler scrape for Claude, and a talon scrape for Edelgard.”

“Teething?” Dimitri mumbled.

“Yes dear. Your teeth must be quite the pain. Teething will help. And worry not, the curtains when lowered will fully block out all light. I outfitted the room with an enchantment to keep extra noises out as well, dear Claude.” She gestured to the door. “Should any of you have a nightmare, my room is just through there.”

“Your room…?” Edelgard sluggishly asked.

“Yes dear, my room. You are all welcome at any time, even the dead of night. Past my room, there is the star terrace. It is a quiet, private little spot. Perfect for sunning or getting some fresh air.”

Claude frowned. “What about my room?”

_ “This  _ is your room now.” She tousled his hair. He’d forget all about his old room soon.

“We’re further from our retainers,” Edelgard argued.

“Worry not, I will ensure your needs are met.” She patted Edelgard’s wings to reassure her. “And of course, you are all welcome to invite friends into your room, so long as you do so at appropriate hours.”

“How come you have a room for us hooked to yours?”

“For years this has been an honored guest room of sorts. It was built by the second archbishop, Lady Keres.” For her child. Her first child, her second, her third and fourth. No matter what she did, not a single one of them survived. Every egg of hers only birthed rot. “It was used by the third archbishop, Lady Soteria, for her children.” After, she couldn’t stand the sight of this room. Enough time had passed now that the old memories no longer lingered. “Other archbishops have used it for whatever purpose suits their needs.” Her longer-lived companions at times took residence. A few of them she kept as bed companions for the novelty. Not many. Bedding mortals always felt wrong. Most just kept her company. “I have refitted it to suit your needs.”

How blessed she was to finally be able to use this room for its intended purpose. 

Edelgard and Claude stumbled to their feet, tugging along Dimitri. They were still affected by the exhaustion of their growth spurt (and the pain-relief of her magic). “Whoa. That’s a lot of food,” Claude observed, his eyes as large as his dinner plate.

“Of course. Plenty of food for three growing youths.” She had to guide them to sit down. From there, the smell did the rest. With tasty hot food in front of them, the children wasted no time digging in. _ So cute. _ Dimitri and Edelgard tried to eat with manners but they swiftly matched Claude, who didn’t bother. All three of them began stuffing their cheeks as though their lives depended on it.  _ Good, good. _ Dimitri especially needed the calories to finish his growth spurt and Edelgard’s tail feathers needed a little extra push.

“Here, my child.” She presented a braided cheese-bread to Dimitri. Of course she remembered his favorite. She made sure to stuff the whole batch with extra burdock. Dimitri licked his lips and reached out. “Ah-ah. No touching, sweetie.” She hand-fed him, delighting in his extra-loud purrs. “That’s right. Good boy.” She scratched behind his ears as a reward. Hand-feeding was an excellent way to build trust. If they didn’t love her already, they would soon. 

She provided them a safe environment, tasty food, and lots and lots of love. Animals were creatures of habit. This was their most important lesson of all: that she was safe and that she loved them. She would ensure the lesson stuck, no matter how many times she must repeat it.

It worked with all animals. It worked for stray cats and dogs, birds and wyverns, and even with humans. It  _ especially _ worked with scared and hurt humans with deep scars just  _ begging _ for her to soothe. It was an art she’d perfected, from Wilhelm to Cyril. She would spread food, sit back, and allow her quarry to grow comfortable. She would repeat the meal. When the calm environment lulled them into feeling safe, she would present herself as the beacon of safety.  _ She _ provided the food and protection.  _ She _ was the only one who could provide stability, and love, and happiness.

Magic was optional. Typically she no longer used magic. Whatever her current method didn’t cover, the innate draw of her crestblood naturally enraptured mortals. But magic was good insurance. And, well, she was  _ already _ using magic to make her little ones feel better. A bit of extra encouragement would solidify their loyalty. She did so love spoiling her children.

“Is this your favorite? Yes, you certainly like this. Such a good boy. Does someone like his ears scratched? Yes, yes he certainly does.” Her voice was safety and reward. Her touch was to be welcomed.  _ This is your lesson, my child. I love you. You love me. _

Dimitri pushed his head into her hand, whining. She obliged him. It helped that they were so tired from their growing. A sleepy human was much easier to instill new habits and instincts. So easy to shape and mold like this… 

Claude was easy to feed as well. Nibbling hesitantly in the beginning, a good ear scratch softened him up. Even relaxed, his ears spooked at even the softest unexpected sounds. On a hunch, she tried a different technique and took a bite of the food in her hand. Offering it back to Claude, he eagerly gobbled it all up. “Such a good appetite. You love your food, yes you do, my sweet fawn. That’s a good boy.” She wouldn’t punish him for mistrusting her this time. He was used to being wary with his food. That was a good habit. He would learn she was an exception to that caution. She would ensure it. 

Feeding Edelgard was more difficult, but she too caved. From Seiros’ palm she lapped up scraps of meat. Her eyes followed the scraps obediently with enough encouragement.

Claude was the first to finish, flopping onto the carpet and groaning. Even though his growth spurt was only in his antlers, he still ate valiantly. “Good boy,” she told him, settling beside him. She rubbed his bloated deer tummy, tickling little touches of magic to aid digestion (and to make her pets feel extra nice and desirable). Encouraging his burnt out cells to grow would take time. She had all the time in the world for her children. “I’m so proud of you.” His tail swished back and forth the more she praised him. “You ate so well for me.” He arched into her touch, allowing her to raise his head and settle it in her lap.

“I can eat more,” he whispered, looking up with a familiar adoration: a desire to please her. There was more than that of course. Determination. Confusion. His eyes were glazed, yet still ever so sharp.

She could do nothing but encourage his attitude, hand-feeding him more carrots. He panted, his deer-tummy well and truly full. He didn’t ask her to stop though. He was determined to make her happy. “You’ve made me so proud, my little deer.” She rewarded his behavior with words, pets, and extra tickles of pleasant magic.

His eyes fluttered closed, a relaxed smile spreading across his face. She would need to curtail his eating in the upcoming future. Unlike his siblings, he wasn’t growing yet. If she kept treating him so much he would get chubby. As adorable as that sounded (and as much as she desired to pinch chubby deer-cheeks) her little children were to be groomed into warriors. She wouldn’t allow them to be defenseless. She wouldn’t lose them.

For now though, in their childhood, she could spoil them. He was so cute to treat. She  _ adored _ spoiling her little ones. She didn’t have it in her to put him on a diet quite yet. If he put on a bit of trust-pudge, she would help him work it off. 

_ In fact, _ that was an excellent idea. Softening him up now would allow her to mold him stronger in the future. The extra stored calories would be perfect for when he did start growing, and would allow him to catch up to his siblings. It would also be best to keep him from snooping around and getting into danger until she instilled the correct way of thinking into him. What better way than to keep him distracted with her love and a pleasantly full belly? She wove more magic past her fingertips, ensuring he felt spoiled and adored. 

Edelgard was the next to fall. Seiros settled her little eagle on her lap too. The poor girl curled around her stomach, whimpering. “You so do love your sweets.” Seiros ensured all the sweets were both delicious and chock full of nutrition for a growing birdie. “Were the honey-glazed meats tasty?” Edelgard slowly nodded. “How about a few more bites.”

It was child's play to pack Edelgard with more trust-building nutrients. She was all bluster and no bite. Unlike Claude who fed off of praise like a starved deer, Edelgard did best with minimal encouragement. The less Seiros spoke, the more malleable she became. With delightful sweets packed into her, she became  _ very _ malleable. Her wings came to sluggishly embrace them together. She rewarded the gesture handsomely with another sweet and a dose of pleasant magic.

The sleepy lion was the last to stop. His forehead slumped forward onto the table. Seiros settled behind him, urging him to raise his head. He did so, absently nuzzling her cheek. “I think someone’s still hungry.”

Dimitri allowed her to feed him the rest of the spread on the table. The boy was less interested in the food and more interested in her praise and pets. Despite needing the most nutrients out of his siblings, Dimitri was not such a good eater. “I am very happy when you eat, sweetie.”

He purred, nuzzling against her and chewing whatever she brought to his mouth. His teeth were shifting to be more catlike making it harder for him to chew, but for now he could still eat as an omnivore did. As she fed him, she made sure to channel plenty of encouraging magic into his bones and joints. Wouldn’t want those to hurt too much in the morning from all the growing they were doing.

“You’ve all made me so proud.” She went from sleepy child to sleepy child, wiping their faces clean of any extra food bits. Herding them to the bed was as easy as hoisting them into her arms. She held them, rocking them back and forth as they snuggled. With how they clung to one another, it was like holding one very large child rather than three. She tucked them in. Already they were succumbing to sleep.

With one last kiss to each forehead, she settled over them a blanket of magic. Rest was important for growing children and she ensured they would not awaken until morning. Their night would be dreamless and pleasant. The happy feelings she instilled in them would settle and engrain in their minds. A few more nights of pampering and they would well and truly love her as she loved them. Forever and ever.

Cichol wouldn’t be able to complain soon. In a few days she would  _ ask  _ her children to call her their mother. They would say yes. She would ensure they wanted nothing more in the world than to be with her. They would never be lonely, and  _ she _ would never be lonely, and Mother would be so proud of how well she took care of them. Cichol simply did not understand. He wasn’t there when she needed him. No one was there for her as child after child died. Every time she gave birth she was alone, greeted only by hollow shells and still heartbeats. Come to think of it, she wasn’t certain if she ever told him she was barren. How many times did she see him over the millennia? No more than a handful. It wasn’t until she was on death’s door herself that he deigned to visit. It wasn’t until  _ he _ needed  _ her _ help that he chose to stay with her.  _ Cichol _ could have as many children as he wished for.  _ Cichol _ had his daughter.  _ Seiros _ had no one.  _ Seiros _ never had  _ anyone! _ Only Mother cared for her, and Mother died! How  _ dare _ he judge her. 

But Seiros wasn’t alone anymore. Now she had Mother back. Now she had two sons and a daughter. It was okay that Cichol didn’t understand her pain. Her grief could finally end.  _ Everything was finally fixed. _

Her children needed stability more than anything. She should have taken them in from the start. Her original attempts to allow them normalcy were in hindsight laughable.  _ This _ was what they needed. She couldn’t afford to take the slow route of gaining their trust. As soon as they loved her, the real training could begin. Her children were to become the strongest weapons in all of Fódlan. No one could be allowed to harm them.

She extracted plenty of vials of blood from each child as they slept. Their meal would ensure their bodies replenished everything she took. Fresh blood, still sluggishly active with Mother’s blessing, would reveal far more than her earlier samples.

She locked the door behind her. With a wave of her hand, the doorframe briefly hummed as she activated the old wards. Nothing could be allowed to harm her little ones.

She made haste to her lab. Mother’s blessing was still unfurling within the children, morphing them into Mother’s vision. She had so many ideas on how to improve the blessing and further it along. The more she examined Mother’s blessing, the more it all fell into place. It was the perfect complement to her research, filling in gaps she never knew could be filled. 

The blessing was only half-complete.  _ Of course it was. _ This was her test. Mother wished for her to complete the children. Mother was allowing her to leave her own mark on the children, to  _ truly _ make them hers in flesh and blood.

Endless possibilities. With their crests feeding off one another, their strength was increasing in an exponential spiral. It was her duty to ensure their metamorphosis remained stable. If the blessing proceeded as it was, their bodies would be corrupted rather than made holy.  _ Mother’s test. _ The question was  _ how _ to complete their blessing. 

Mother’s orchestration of forcing the children to use their crests in her presence was divine fate. How long would she have been blind to Mother’s true plans without that hint?  _ Not good enough. _ She had to do better. She had to prove to Mother she was good enough. If she hadn’t realized Mother’s blessing was incomplete, there was no telling what sort of untamed chaos the children would have experienced.  _ Now though _ Seiros would ensure their growth was guided.

She settled the blood samples into different machines. She had to know every detail. She could not afford this experiment to go awry. She had so many tests to perform, so many possibilities to examine.

The easiest way to stabilize the trio was to halt their crests from feeding off one another. She  _ might _ be able to achieve it, but that wasn’t certain. Fully separating them would halt their crest growth. Without each other their bodies would stabilize but minds and souls would splinter. It did not matter. Stopping the crest growth was counterproductive. That would harm their bond and cripple their potential. Yet she could not do nothing. Left alone, their bodies and crests will grow out of control, dragging their minds further and further from ration.

Already she was bolstering their physical bodies with a steady diet of magic-infused crops. Edelgard would learn how to lead the natural way, but enhancing her passive charisma would be helpful in both the long and short term. Seiros would know, as her blood bolstered one’s presence. Magic could be used to gain trust faster, but most often the hum of her blood was enough to gain devotion. Of course, feeding Edelgard magical crops to increase her resistance to magic was somewhat counter-productive, but her safety was more important. Mind-magics were a dangerous threat to her children. Besides, her crops were infused with  _ her _ magic, so Edelgard was only growing more resistant to  _ other _ magics.

Dimitri’s form was growing nicely to protect his siblings, so of course his constitution and strength must be encouraged. Claude’s speed and dexterity would only grow further, and the magic herbs he loved to gulp down were to help regenerate his cells and stimulate growth as soon as his body was ready.

She must balance their internal growth with their physical growth. If one outstripped the other, less desirable  _ demonic _ traits may taint their perfect forms. Mother would be disappointed. No, they must be developed carefully. Yet Mother’s warning of Agartha’s return was a dire one. The children must be ready before Agartha returned. Speed was necessary, and so was care. For Mother and for her children, Seiros would thread the needle. She would soothe their many, many upcoming growing pains.

Mother must have known of her hard work all these centuries. How Mother blessed the children was beyond her understanding.  _ Completing _ what was already there however was within her understanding. Out of all the possibilities, she knew the best option. She would develop the children to maturity as full blooded Nabateans.  _ Her children, in name and in blood. _ They would lose their human form for some time, but like herself and all other Nabateans, their human-like appearance would not be lost forever.

Mother’s surviving murders would taste the true vengeance of the Nabateans.

While she waited for the samples to finish being analyzed, she stepped into the elevator and moved to a different floor. Some years she visited daily. Other times she went for centuries unable to step foot into this level.

“Luca.” At her call, her creation responded. “Come here, sweetie.” Luca rose, drifted to her as a graceful, hulking ghost. As ever, she began her routine. Luca followed her silently, aside from the breathing of her gears.

“Hello Melisa.” Luca presented her with a clean cloth. She knelt down and cleaned the stone with Melisa’s name. Luca kept them all dusted, but she liked to clean them too. “Your teddy bear is quite old, isn’t it.” The ratty thing was a decayed pile of unrecognizable cloth. That was okay. Seiros remembered what it once looked like. Even if she couldn’t recall Melisa’s face.

She moved to the next one. “Hello Irin. Your vase is in very good condition.” Irin had made such beautiful glass baubles when he lived. He was so talented, even as his hands grew too old to craft.

She cleaned tombstone after tombstone, ensuring each little trinket of theirs remained. After all, unlike her people, a human’s soul had nothing to cling to after death. A human’s soul could only live on for as long as they were remembered. She remembered her children. Their names were written down, how could she forget?

“Hello Matthew. A shame your book is too faded to read. It was… astronomy?”  _ Wasn’t it? _ “Yes. Astronomy. Don’t worry my child, I’ll never forget you.”

After she said hello to each and every stone, she did it once more. “Mommy misses you, Melisa.” She pressed a kiss to cold, unliving stone. “I will see you next time, my child. Goodnight.”

73 stones to say hello to, 73 stones to say goodnight to. She gave the cloth back to Luca. “Mommy misses you, Luca.” She kissed Luca’s skirt. Luca said nothing. Luca couldn’t speak, of course. “Mommy’s sorry your egg never hatched. Maybe soon, I will introduce you to your newest siblings. Living ones, this time. They love the room I built for you, sweetie. Goodnight.” 

* * *

There wasn’t anything in particular that woke Claude. He’d been sleeping way more than usual, so it was no surprise he couldn’t sleep through the night. Whatever magic Rhea drugged them with still left him groggy and… weird.

He stared up at the unfamiliar ceiling. The room was much quieter than his own. It didn’t creak. The windows were sealed better. There were no faint mumbles from nearby rooms. The room was spacious and empty. All he could hear was El and Dimitri, deep in sleep.

He pulled himself out of their shared embrace. Neither stirred. He eyed the rise and fall of their chests for a few beats. He glanced down at himself. They were wearing matching nightgowns. With Rhea’s crest on them. At least these clothes weren’t so tight and cloistering. He knew he should be more concerned about Rhea changing their clothes again, but he wasn’t. He eased a strand of El’s hair out of Dimitri’s mouth. He gently massaged at Dimitri’s hand, working his stuck claws out of the covers.

What he really wanted was to hide under his quilt. He didn’t want to be in this unfamiliar room with unfamiliar smells. Fear, both human and deer, nipped at the back of his brain. He knew he should be much,  _ much _ more afraid. He should be  _ doing _ something.  _ Acting. _ He was just really tired still, and his stomach ached from eating so much. It was unfair how tasty Rhea’s food was. It was hard to care when he felt so relaxed. Right along the nipping fear was the mounting  _ want. _

There was a kind of drug back in Almyra that he was  _ not _ supposed to have ever taken. Which  _ obviously _ meant he had to try it. He’d seen what Poppy Tears did to people and he’d thought he was stronger. In this instance his curiosity was not worth it. After only one dose, it’d been on his mind for  _ months. _ Poisons weren’t all about pain. The most dangerous poison he knew had slipped into his head, told him everything in the world was okay, and promised him he was loved. Everything had been wonderful, right up until it was out of his system. Right up until he realized he was willing to literally kill to feel that lie again. Ever since, he stayed away from the more potent stuff. Rhea’s magic, whatever it was,  _ definitely  _ counted as ‘the more potent stuff’. He already craved more. He craved  _ Rhea’s praise _ and  _ Rhea’s magic pets. _ The relaxed, content, floating feeling still drizzled through his system. Knowing himself, that was probably the only reason he wasn’t experiencing a full paranoid breakdown.

He knew  _ exactly _ how dangerous it was and he still wanted Rhea’s pride. He  _ knew, _ and it was  _ so hard to care. _ So what if it was a lie? Was it so much to ask for to be  _ loved? _ He’d felt so nice laying in Rhea’s lap, letting her pet his belly fur. So what if she was turning them into her pets? It was  _ nice. _

_ Could  _ he even fight her? Why bother? Everything was stacked against them. Their crests made them drawn to Rhea. She was one of if not  _ the _ most powerful person in Fódlan. Her magic was strong, probably inhumanly so. They needed the church to not be seen as monsters. Cooperating with Rhea was in their best interest politically. Rhea was  _ nice, _ she didn’t  _ torture them, _ and she  _ loved them. _

Rhea was proud of him. Rhea said he did good. Rhea loved him. It was everything he ever wanted in life. He forced himself to get up. His body was heavy and light all at once. He wanted to sink back into El and Dimitri’s embrace and drift away. He wanted to make Rhea proud.

He  _ needed _ to know his environment.

He checked the bathroom first. There he found chamber pots and a cabinet filled with grooming supplies. Most impressive was that the room had plumbing. A working sink and a large bath. They would still need the bigger communal baths to wash Edelgard’s wings, but otherwise it looked to be big enough to fit all three of them. He had no doubt the pipes had a heating spell enchanted on them to allow them the real luxury of hot water.  _ Dammit, _ he loved having easy access to hot water. He could already envision sleepy baths, nice and warm and cozy with El and Dimitri… 

He shook his head.  _ Move on.  _ According to Rhea, the door to leave their room led into  _ her _ room. Sneaking out might be possible, but it would be risky. Especially with his metal deershoes. They were silent on the soft carpet of their room, but Rhea’s room was mostly hardwood. He might as well have a bell around his neck. He pressed an ear up to the door. Like the window, it was sealed. If Rhea was in her room, he couldn’t hear her. She implied she would be there all night. He didn’t know how good her hearing was, but it couldn’t be better than his. Which meant they at least wouldn’t be overheard in their room.

He checked the closets one by one. They were stocked with clothes. School uniforms, evening wear, summer outfits, winter clothes, loungewear, and cloaks. Each of them had a color coordinated set. In his closet he found a few sets of booties. One tough, fancy leather pair (for formal events?), one tough, regular pair (indoor shoes?) and one soft cotton pair.  _ Sleeping slippers? _ Maybe they could muffle his steps. El was going to be very happy about the slippers. Not even a day with his deershoes and she already found time to complain about his cold hooves.

…Had it been a day already? Or was it longer? Two days? 

_ Move on, move on. _ Each closet had a chest under the clothes. His gut reaction was to call it a  _ toy chest. _ The ‘enrichment objects’ were mostly toys. Some more obvious than others. Balls, tug-ropes, chew toys, and plenty of stuffed animals were stored with training weights and a million board games. Chess, checkers, and a lot of unrecognizable ones.  _ Holy shit, there was a backgammon board! He loved backgammon! _ He could teach El and Dimitri! He missed playing backgammon so much… 

_ No! Move on! _

He scraped his antlers against one of the weird shaped ‘posts’. It  _ did _ feel kinda nice. Satisfying. There were talon scrapes for El and an entire scratch post for Dimitri. 

He couldn’t read very well in the dark, but he caught the titles along the spines of the books. Rhea gave them a little bit of everything: history, textbooks, monarch studies, biographies. An entire shelf was dedicated to Faith and Seiros teachings. Most insulting of all had to be the bottom shelf of colorful children’s books. 

Checking the desks, they were mostly empty. School supplies like paper, quills and ink, boring stuff. The oddest thing he found was a little paper bag in each desk. In Dimitri’s were small, bone-like objects that smelled like meat. El’s contained balls of honey-covered seeds (he checked one by licking it. What Edelgard didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her). The bag at his desk contained a bunch of little biscuit… things. They  _ smelled _ like meat, kind of. Meat didn’t smell good to him anymore.  _ These _ things smelled  _ delicious. _

Despite still being uncomfortably full, he popped one of the biscuits into his mouth.  _ It was flavored like meat. Delicious meat! _ It wasn’t exactly how he remembered meat tasting, but it was  _ close,  _ and it was  _ delicious! _ It was salty, flavored like jerky. He missed meat  _ so much!  _ He licked his lips, deciding he could fit another one or two in his stomach. The whole bag was full, Rhea wouldn’t notice he ate a few. Besides, they were in his desk, they must be meant for him.  _ Gods and Goddesses, tasty meat flavoring!  _ Goddess-mom came through for him! His prayer worked!  _ Meat! _

The bag was empty.

He opened his eyes. He’d closed them in his blissful stupor. His fingers brushed the bottom of the bag. It _had_ been full. Where did they all vanish to? They were so good, he just wanted one more. Maybe two. He burped. And became uncomfortably aware of how _painfully_ full he was again. He stumbled over to a nearby, pleasantly cushioned bench under the window. It _hurt_ to walk being so full. He rolled onto his side and groaned. He scrubbed the crumbs off his lips and gripped his tight belly. _Oh hell, he ate them all._ He wasn’t sure he could get back up. His ears tilted down, growing hot. He threw his arm across his eyes. The entire bag, _devoured,_ and he hadn’t even _noticed._ He had no control over himself. Licking his lips, he _really, really_ wanted more of those treats. If he ate _anything_ else he was going to vomit, or explode, and he _still_ wanted to eat more treats.

Great! Just great! Even  _ more _ temptation! Rhea really was trying to buy their love.  _ Ugh, _ she was doing it through his stomach. And… 

…it might be working. 

He hiccupped, then slapped a hand over his lips as he vomited a little in his mouth. _Nope, no more treats. Eeugh. _He forced himself to swallow it.

He didn’t know how magic compared to drugs. Would it work itself out of his system? Could he fight it? Were there countermeasures he could take? How addictive was it long-term? It had to be wearing off as he was starting to worry more.

The window gave a nice view of the monastery and night sky. Underneath it was a backless couch complete with some blankets he wrapped around himself. The window sill was large enough for him to rest his arms on and would have been large enough for him to lay his head on if not for his stupid antlers.

His antlers were heavier than before. There was a mirror in the bathroom but he wasn’t brave enough to look. He wasn’t brave enough to reach up and feel how much bigger they’d grown. According to Rhea, they were  _ still  _ growing. According to Rhea, she  _ did something _ to him to make them grow even more. She  _ did stuff _ to El and Dimitri too.

He pressed his cheek up against the cool glass, the tip of his antler clinking. They were trapped in a tower like a fairytale. Rhea was encouraging their changes, happy to keep altering their humanity. They went from one mad scientist to another. They had more physical freedom but it wasn’t like they could  _ go _ anywhere. Deep in the marrow of his bones, he knew Rhea would find them if they ran. Worse, she would be  _ disappointed _ if they ran away. 

At least they weren’t freezing to death, or in pain, or filled with uncertainty. Rhea was  _ comfortable. _ It was the same prison in the opposite way. Rhea let them stay together instead of forcing them apart. She forced him to be comfortable and happy. She ripped away his ability to be afraid of her (though that was steadily returning). 

It was a clear night. Stars glittered endlessly. Once, what felt like a lifetime ago, this was his favorite kind of night to go flying. Just him, his wyvern, and the night sky. Rhea’s magic must be mostly out of his system. He missed flying so much. It wasn’t just glass that kept him from the sky. He’d never be able to fly again. Being so high rubbed salt in that ache.

Wrapping his arms around himself, he pressed his nose against the glass.  _ Pointless. _ He should just lay back down and drown himself in comfort. Maybe he could search for more of those treats. He ached to find that comfort in others. In El and Dimitri, and worst of all he ached to crawl his way to Rhea and beg her to make him feel safe again. She could rip away his desire to fly, replacing it with whatever she pleased. He wanted to lay at the foot of her bed and sleep  _ there. _ She’d be happy that he came to her. She’d reward him. She’d be  _ proud _ of him. He gripped at the fur at the base of his waist and tugged. He just needed to ride through the cravings. He  _ had _ to distract himself. He started pulling at his chest fur where it reached a few inches under his navel, and— 

The fur started  _ an _ inch under his navel. If that. Distantly he could feel panic cresting over the horizon. His furline was higher than before.  _ His furline was higher. _ He explored around his waist. As he felt his back, he found a new patch of fur. Before it was a perfect circle where fur abruptly melted into skin. Crawling up his spine was a new trail of fur. It petered out roughly halfway up his back.

There was a strange but familiar sound in the room. He reached around his front and tugged at the new fluff. His white belly fur was much longer and fluffier than the rest of his fur, and that continued to be the case as it creeped onto his human stomach.  _ Human torso. _ He didn’t  _ have _ a human stomach anymore.

The noise got louder. He was whining. Rhea could stop his panic. All he had to do was go to Rhea. She would help him, make him feel better. She would make it  _ worse, _ maybe she would change him  _ more.  _ If she learned how easily he panicked, she might decide she  _ liked _ him coming to her and make him even more panicky. Could she do that? Could she alter him to the point that every little thing scared him, forcing him to leash himself to her side? 

He forced himself to stop panting, evening out his breathing. He knew how to work through a panic attack. He’d learned to deal with his fear as a child, he could relearn it again. He didn’t need Rhea (he just wanted her). 

It was just a little extra fur (clawing into what remained of his humanity). A little extra fur, and slightly heavier antlers. It wasn’t the end of the world. He could still walk, he still had hands, he could still speak (but for how long?). That was what mattered. 

Feeling stupid, hypocritical, and entirely helpless, he reached for something he hadn’t  _ truly _ done since he was a boy. Not genuinely. Clasping his hands before him, he squeezed his eyes shut. 

“Hey there Goddess-mom, it’s your favorite son again.” His whisper shook the same as his hands. “Shocked to hear from me so often? Yeah, me too, sorry for the late night chit chat. Do Goddesses sleep? You know me, I don’t sleep much anymore. Or even before, really. At least I can blame it on the deer thing now. Thanks for granting my meat wish.”

His whisper faltered. What was he even doing? Praying achieved nothing. Begging some unseen force to solve his problems for him was pointless. He opened his eyes to be greeted with the endless sky twinkling at him. All things considered, his problem was just a tiny spec to a single human in a sea of millions. 

“Must be nice to be above it all. Must be nice not having to struggle for everything.” He wasn’t even being spiteful. Wouldn’t that be great? If only humanity could come together, put aside their differences, and learn to understand each other. That niggling want combined with Rhea’s spell to remind him he  _ could  _ experience that kind of peace for himself if he just asked. Selfishly he wanted that acceptance for himself, of course. But he wanted it for others too.

“I’m sure you’re busy with the thousands of other people talking to you all the time. Can’t blame you if you haven’t been paying attention to us, you’ve got a lot of followers. If you’re even real. But things have really escalated for us. Your archbishop is insane.”

He paused to yawn. He wasn’t tired. “Let’s be candid. You know I’m no believer. Maybe you’re real, maybe I’m just talking to myself. Maybe you’re real and you don’t care about all us tiny mortals. But if you are real, and if you are listening, and you care, as unlikely as that is… look, I’m not one to ask for handouts. I’m not going to beg some magical entity to fix everything for us. I just…”  _ don’t know what else to do. _

He wanted nothing more in the world than to wake El and Dimitri. To take them hand in hand and escape from everything. To run away and find somewhere hidden where no one could find them. Even  _ if _ that was possible, running would mean abandoning his dream for good. As often as he ran away, that wasn’t something he was willing to sacrifice. Even when the possibility of achieving it was slimmer than ever before. If he wasn’t working towards his dream, what was the  _ point? _

“I don’t know why I’m doing this. I mean, I guess it worked last time we were trapped. It sure would be nice if Byleth raced in and kicked down the door.” Foolishly he paused. There were no running footsteps, no door kicked open. “Yeah, I know, I’m asking too much here. I know it could be a lot worse. Rhea’s carrot is far better than a mad scientist’s cattle prod. Just because it’s better doesn’t mean it’s good.” He licked his lips, trying to ignore his returning craving for those weird and  _ delicious _ carrots.  _ And _ his craving for those tasty biscuits. He was still absolutely stuffed but if he had a plate of those in front of him he wouldn’t be able to stop himself.

Hell, he really was just an animal now, wasn’t he.

He yawned again and fought back a whine that wanted to spill past his throat. “If you’re listening… please, I can’t turn into a deer. Don’t let me turn into a deer. This half-way state has its perks but no further,  _ please, _ I can’t… I can’t…” He bit down on his lip. A whine escaped despite his efforts. “Don’t let me lose my voice, or my hands, or what humanity I have left. Don’t let Rhea steal what little we have left of ourselves.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rhea: Here you go kiddos, have some opium with your lunch c: as a treat c:  
Seteth: Rhea... wtf
> 
> As someone who has never taken anything harder than caffeine and sleep deprivation, I sure reference drug-adjacent topics in my works a lot. Anyways.   
Plot twist, Rhea is Byleth! Bc she's feeding her lil soldiers all the stat boosters she can get her hands on. And planning their class progression.   
Claude: I want to be a wyvern rider!  
Rhea: That's sweet bby. Too bad. Here's your cavalry certification. Now eat your swift carrots.  
*Claude Reached B rank in faith(and frustration)!*  
Claude: >:[  
(Wait is it swift carrots or speed carrots. Whoops. It's 2am I've been working on this for like 12 hours I'm not gonna look it up, same thing).
> 
> A lil bit of inspiration from FE4 here, but I hc that crests have a stat associated with them that they passively increase. Blaiddyd=Str++, Indech=Spd++, Macuil/Gloucester=Mag++, Cichol=HP, etc. Some of them I'm willing to waffle my opinion on. Some maybe boost multiple stats, like Riegan=Spd/dex+(or maybe luck?) or Goneril=Str/Def+. When it comes to the Crest of Seiros, I think the primary stat bonus would be to charisma. Both Rhea and Edelgard are naturally uber charismatic. Granted, many characters are charismatic. idk. Just seems like it'd be a thing. Seiros, voice of the Goddess, the one who rallied an army behind her. Hell yea she'll punch a bandit king in the face and stab him to death. But more impressively was that she got an army big enough to get there in the first place.
> 
> (oh and Claude vomiting in his mouth is a ref to deer ruminating, tho his system isn't equipped to properly ruminate. Lucky him. Poor boy has enough on his plate (heh) without needing to vomit into his mouth and rechew all his food like a deer. ;) Props to anyone who caught that)
> 
> (Oh and also Poppy Tears is another name for opium)
> 
> Anyways im off to bed. Next chapter: Father figure(s?) :O


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